tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84599685297759560462024-02-20T19:16:10.040-08:00Yard Fanatic<b>There is nothing more satisfying than growing and preparing your own food. I am an Oregonian transplanted to Austin, Texas. I can garden year round here; of course, this also means I am pulling weeds every day. I practice organic gardening principles and enjoy the challenge of outsmarting garden pests. Occasionally I lose these battles, but I don't mind sharing a good meal.</b>Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-40371662225553140332019-05-19T10:50:00.002-07:002021-04-18T06:30:24.534-07:00Things in the garden I wished I'd never learned and the lies I tell myself<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAwtfmPZLQSiO2ut8I1HlwT4_nxzYUUvMOuG0NZm3YmyMWcbPXjNsT6MkIcKWuhGXsFU_hshf6yRM9dFVmLE_JKb4wEVSqUizj6vxS1oUVj0gfU5jTfw6bKP_TfAsd8lTBiZNz6o9cBU/s1600/TOAR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAwtfmPZLQSiO2ut8I1HlwT4_nxzYUUvMOuG0NZm3YmyMWcbPXjNsT6MkIcKWuhGXsFU_hshf6yRM9dFVmLE_JKb4wEVSqUizj6vxS1oUVj0gfU5jTfw6bKP_TfAsd8lTBiZNz6o9cBU/s320/TOAR.jpg" width="320" /></a>Our Texas heat has arrived so I got up early this Saturday to slog it out in the yard before the sun started beating down on me. We've had an unseasonably wet and cool spring this year, perfect for the weeds, and I needed to get the worst of them pulled before they set seed.</div>
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I've been particularly plagued by <i><a href="https://texasinvasives.org/plant_database/detail.php?symbol=TOAR" target="_blank">Torilis arvensis</a></i>, known as spreading hedgeparsley. The Texas Invasives site has a description that just makes me laugh. "U.S. Habitat: 'This plant usually grows around waste areas, edges of woods, and low shady places' (Dixon 2011). 'The preference is full sun, mesic to dry conditions, and a rather heavy soil containing gravel or clay. Because this plant often grows in soil containing limestone gravel, it appears to tolerate alkaline conditions' (Hilty 2012)." Yep. That's my yard. I have battled it back pretty well in the front but the backyard got away from me. The nice rains and mild winter have stimulated it to epic proportions. The black swallowtail use it as a host plant, but I've yet to see a caterpillar on it. It likes to hide near my fruit trees and against the fence, which means that Penny the dog gets covered in burrs whenever she goes out on patrol. As I was yanking it out this morning I discovered a few new interesting things about my garden, and that made me think of all the other things I wished I'd never learned and the lies I tell myself about them. See if any of these ring true to you.<br />
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<li><i>Horseherb (and other weeds) are easier to pull when they are three feet tall</i>. I guess it's all about the leverage. Plus the verdant growth means they grow up, instead of spreading horizontally, so there are less roots to pull. However, many develop tap roots that rival any tree and it's a recipe for three aspirin and a glass of wine later. Waiting to weed until they get bigger is just plain laziness on my part. </li>
<li><i>Wildflowers are not just flowers.</i> Oh sure, they are pretty growing out in fields and along the highway. I get particular inspiration from my friend Jenny Stocker who blogs about her experiences at <a href="https://wwwrockrose.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rock Rose</a>. Jenny's garden has been featured in magazines, tv shows, books, you name it. I go there and have to remind myself that the carefree way her plants grow masks a lot of hard work. I planted quite a few seeds in my gravel pathways to mimic what she does. They are stunning, but they reseed everywhere and I usually am tripping over them before I finally clear them away. Any plant out of place is a weed. I make all sorts of excuses for leaving them, but I must be ruthless and pull them out. Dandelions are pretty too (and delicious) but I don't seem to have trouble yanking them out.</li>
<li><i>Bluebonnets are traitors.</i> Lupines in general are some of my favorite plants because they are like the marines. It's their job to establish a beachhead on these alkaline soils so that other plants can land and thrive. Lupines are legumes, which means that they have bacteria on their roots (<a href="https://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/parsons/search.php?category=Bluebonnet%20Seeds" target="_blank">rhizobium</a>) that fixes nitrogen from the air and makes it available to the plant. In my yard, the bluebonnets grow to about eight inches tall and then flop over to spread about a foot for each plant. That's awesome except that they harbor weed fugitives that I can't see until they outgrow the bluebonnet - often this is after they've already spread their weedy seeds everywhere.</li>
<li><i>You'll never clear an area of weeds in order to put down mulch</i>. The great thing about mulch is that it serves as a weed suppressant. For that reason, I try to clear the mulching area of weeds first before spreading the layer of whatever I'm going to use. The trouble is that I'm so exhausted from weeding that I never get around to the mulching part. I lie to myself and say that I'll do it next time. This goes along with other great lies like "I'll mow the grass when it quits raining."</li>
<li><i>It's the journey, not the destination</i>. Plants on the edge of the garden will never get weeded. When I get overwhelmed with how overgrown things are, I play games with myself and try to prioritize the work. "I'll just work on the vegetable beds" I say to myself. Trouble is that I have to walk through a jungle to get there. This means that I weed on the way to weeding, then get tired and never even start the job I meant to. I guess this means I need staff. The other great lie I tell myself is "I'm just going out to turn the compost." Sure, but it always needs screening, which means I have compost to spread, which means I need a weed free area to add it to, which means see #4.</li>
<li><i>Everything in Texas has spurs</i>. Yee-howdy. Every single dang native plant and weed has some sort of spur, burr, thistle, or other device whose sole purpose is to extract blood meal for its community. And that doesn't even begin to include the biting insects and other varmints. </li>
<li><i>Elmer Fudd had the right idea</i>. Yeah, that bugs bunny was a hilarious wise cracker but Elmer Fudd was totally justified in hunting down that wascally wabbit, not to mention his friends the squirrels. You know, I am a good person, I provide food for wildlife, I planted just the right shrubs and plants to contribute to the circle of life. However when those squirrels take one small bite out of a peach then throw it to the ground, or the rabbits just dig up carrots and leave them on the surface, or the mockingbirds fight each other and knock down the grapes, it just gets to be too much. This leads to the next thing I wish I never learned.</li>
<li><i>Cages are for the people</i>. The only relief from the wildlife is to cage your plants. Mere netting is not going to do the job. You need to build boxes for every edible plant, screen in your porches, and basically see the world through the fine haze of mesh. The Great Outdoors is over rated.</li>
<li><i>Plants are not passive</i>. For the inexperienced gardener, it seems that every plant is out there doing things on their own and just takes what comes. Not true. They're organized, they're manipulative, and they're arrogant. I've been spit on, stabbed, scratched, bitch slapped, and poisoned - all by plants I really like! Who needs enemies? The soil food web research and other microbiological studies show that plants communicate to each other and manipulate microbes, animals, and especially humans to work on their behalf. Don't believe me? When was the last time you ran outside to cover a plant from a freeze or gave it that special elixir to make it grow better. Sucker.</li>
<li><i>Whatever pest or weed you brag about not having shows up the next growing season</i>. It's gardening karma. I've learned to be much more sympathetic when people complain about a particular nuisance in their garden. You don't want to alienate these people because they may have the solution to the problem you are definitely going to have. It's the old "do unto others" thing.</li>
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What would you add to this list?</div>
Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-55961215459138349632019-02-09T07:54:00.000-08:002019-02-09T07:54:04.804-08:00Garden Glamour Thwarts Biting Flies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYd4sHwes5wyihX_KW5qvQlRMXogK6-sdZdgOfnYAyFSXqd4MFQS960BZkPOMId_fJyq4efDxl2DHe_8sgMm7r8xfMNvHimKedwD_4cUgZdly0yj5H0l9CT2qBe06-KCHVmHglHRRxMXg/s1600/Garden+Glamour.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYd4sHwes5wyihX_KW5qvQlRMXogK6-sdZdgOfnYAyFSXqd4MFQS960BZkPOMId_fJyq4efDxl2DHe_8sgMm7r8xfMNvHimKedwD_4cUgZdly0yj5H0l9CT2qBe06-KCHVmHglHRRxMXg/s200/Garden+Glamour.png" width="150" /></a></div>
As usual, our Texas winter has been a mixed bag of weather. It's ranged from freezing temperatures to nearly 80 degrees. I'm not complaining. Texas winters are glorious compared to the gray cold skies of western Oregon, where I lived until 2009.<br />
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One dark side to the balmy weather is that the bug population doesn't get killed off in the cold and wet like they do in the north. It's a constant battle in the vegetable garden to stay ahead of pests no matter what time of year it is. I even had a lacewing fly into the house a few weeks ago. They like to hang out in the Mutablis rose near the deck and my recent pruning of it disrupted their housing.<br />
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According to my records, we've had a nearly average amount of rainfall this past fall and into January. The weed seed bank accumulated from not keeping up with appearances has sprouted with abandon. I've got plants coming up that I've never seen before and suspect they arrived in a torrent from some uphill neighbor. Weeds, weeds, everywhere so must haul my butt outside to try to catch up before hot weather arrives. I put on my shorts and tank top since I don't have to fear heat exhaustion, slather on sunscreen and am ready to do battle.<br />
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Except for the biting flies.<br />
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January and early February are usually mosquito free due to the temperature, but the biting flies are apparently more cold tolerant. Like fire ants, they pack a bite compared to their relative size. They are commonly called "Blackfly", scientific name <i>Simulium meridionale</i>. The female is the biter, and she uses her modified mouth parts to draw blood. They are super fast and I've been unable to swat and kill them. Once one of them draws blood a bunch more show up so it becomes really annoying. I've tried toughing it out but the bites creates a really itchy rash that no lotion will soothe. The only way to avoid them is to go in the house or wear protective clothing. I hate having to cover up because winter is the only time I can be outside without sweating like a horse and I'd like to enjoy the cool air. I guess I could get one of those insect protective suits, but they can be expensive.<br />
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This past week I had to give up in a huff and come in the house to put on long sleeves and pants. But then I had an idea. I've got a whole drawer full of pantyhose left over from when I used to work in offices whose dress codes required them. I'd order them online in bulk in the four colors I needed and kept well stocked since I was always snagging them on my desk. Once I didn't have to wear them I started using them as plant ties in the garden, so never threw them out. (They are also handy to dry garlic and onions. I hang them on the deck fully stuffed and they look like the worse case of cellulite EVER.) I pulled on a pair of navy hose, put my shorts back on, donned a long sleeve shirt and went back outside. For those of you in the know, panty hose fabric is not solid, and I've been bitten by mosquitos right through it, but I hoped that it would discourage the flies.<br />
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And it did! I was buzzed a couple of times but they didn't land and bite me, allowing me to stay out several more hours. Of course the bad thing is that I also developed several runs, which means I'm going to go through that drawer pretty fast to stay ahead of the flies.<br />
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Mission accomplished. Thankfully my backyard fence saved my neighbors from seeing me in my glamorous glory. Although if I fashioned some sort of tutu out of bird netting it could get very interesting...Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-22903938250704508012019-01-06T20:21:00.000-08:002019-01-06T20:21:50.646-08:002018 Favorite PhotosI'm taking a moment to reflect back on the past year. I didn't do much traveling or gardening, as the scarcity of my photos testify. I've allowed things to get unbalanced, and looking through my photos reminds me that I need to slow down and appreciate the wonders.<br />
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These images make my heart warm. Yes, they are mostly plants, but hey, it's what I love to look at. I hope you'll indulge me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN2-jHIqU4NF5Jm1FiFJw5PwAHbYV3DSTYATiaWN_3aqkr8pTqAI_q7fODWSnyinhAwPBRN1rYZFqGttPw_y1tohfAQAg5oj9cjpsBt9Wf0BGIfIAMamWwDoIUWTnbwvde5KlPbOysGo/s1600/IMG_3942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN2-jHIqU4NF5Jm1FiFJw5PwAHbYV3DSTYATiaWN_3aqkr8pTqAI_q7fODWSnyinhAwPBRN1rYZFqGttPw_y1tohfAQAg5oj9cjpsBt9Wf0BGIfIAMamWwDoIUWTnbwvde5KlPbOysGo/s320/IMG_3942.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McKee Bridge, Oregon. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McKee_Bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2nd9RdvLoBM6nCRlvHnLCvwQfBD748AmO4s6HUKQV0wUf47QiZ45un9FQC6oSK1BdTHH8FYwN-_ECSbo9QgwlLzVKURDZ4mwHaRLi-hpLcj3EA3WtLaqtzit9uYoFe5xFeSoM-Y_4Oc/s320/IMG_3772.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Loblolly Pine, <i>Pinus taeda</i>, Peckerwood Gardens, Hempstead, Texas</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZeZJwRkLWc01HLGtx-UIikW3EBoR-Nfa-vm1QzLn75zYfD-MMb47RJHaSV7Xc-mEv27d10HdZeYvoEJCoDJkLcJcK31DtvFpVByTr9dCVB27PvxPvR2uID_mI1JT255mUSSOtNiOvMo/s320/IMG_3785.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, Austin, Texas, during a downpour.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCs5pwpWGZcKNIOEFCyecZn9G2G-kC2anT-z2vpMJTpB9x5hSa35LCdSvfFcVWd5EbgQzDbWXa68xbOYaDSTvOpl3nOl0d_7-wRCnLsiU31k5LaPtvI2MWTyLuNhjuQSLj3UtroLoHVGE/s320/IMG_3794.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prickly pear, Austin, Texas</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zJIHq0nWVuGgYxn-xfwnp2mvcJTepwfExpRhnRIez-Q28_B26QtLlWu2rOvXqSmiTxy9HORHXT4CuMd96rFPdb0K5qU0SOqEZLwZ8uFuDXzBFquZedfZtboD77B7BY8RMisk4QelLyk/s1600/IMG_3729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zJIHq0nWVuGgYxn-xfwnp2mvcJTepwfExpRhnRIez-Q28_B26QtLlWu2rOvXqSmiTxy9HORHXT4CuMd96rFPdb0K5qU0SOqEZLwZ8uFuDXzBFquZedfZtboD77B7BY8RMisk4QelLyk/s320/IMG_3729.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When ponds dream, McAshan Herb Gardens at Festival Hill, Texas</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0uuVUJO0Z2j8q7rmHxBxFcGI9PWz81PkLCy8Uk3yGp6HUHc9Pqgj6Wssfu960Ixmk7ubcC9ChhVc_gp3EyVEIOkd-n68-MfqstsatCS1ev-Z3gijOlVaIypWN-UGmaWNn_49Gtz38n8/s320/IMG_3818.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chocolate Mimosa Tree at Tanglewood Garden, Texas</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xw9wVFzqcZMfqS8y9_1ygivIbC8spjPYhl0LpVVOjhdsGrextpyoHAqTehemC2jvA1Z39LQtP-tzQ1kM_TR_L7vQ6uMGjitQ-Gmqng4LJHFFUxK0a3roIRT3xkBUHxxVPkOivPogpr0/s320/IMG_0698.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount St. Helens, Washington, with the still ash-choked Toutle River, hard to believe it's been 38 years since the eruption. Seems like yesterday. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_St._Helens</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSV-NSrKe44KrI7_SYn1d03zqBmuKDHGrodJROfNDOl8OnSu3je_g0OhEldH8BpYFXPDgNJoH-gTiRAwu3Q0vI5R1hJjZDcxW9qu-YqcP7Xi7ab8Jtnr9D97_RlxxazQhZdgNkMlRq704/s320/IMG_0711.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Dogwood, Ashland, Oregon against that impossibly blue Oregon Sky</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzVnZ_YrBWzo3j4qpdT_QWC-TFMtGN02365OcxdW3hJnbj7Bw1-NRAbDci0GDn-vv_XSCnvKX_qNRPCs8IwOG-HhasUi3qPO9cwIoEduSGztdvHDjJT8dswsVlQ0aa31w44-EJ9DbXXw/s320/IMG_0713.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Grandpa called this "strawberry grass" when I asked him what it was. It was only later that I realized he made up almost every plant name in order to appease his chattering granddaughters that would never shut up when following him around the forest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUq4PfLX4M8wOg8FMkXK5jPXtkss0aUYnYMqqpqxNbm1Z5tMVOIOkEly6_lXhe-b8EMa9Q_i7yl0LE6d887CUBFsADEdcYz1QbxTa_yRhk6YzP8y1Ul3bprKwjDWSAuWeC5MzTCSWbkM/s320/IMG_0726.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflections from Lithia Park Reservoir, Ashland, Oregon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwZQtYz4onA46b8N8p11ojGeqx-Q6ISLwuOrLhzooguDGW30ZYWXSShEJW2G-W7js35U7QA2WrkRK4uYadkuPFEMGnNmfp2gXwNcNfDXFRhSM5-hTZWTvOzJ_a7frOB3G4LMvra_4hbc/s320/IMG_3892.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An infinity of alliums</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOmhmWZPMadh-RvnL8VzuskqfDBPmeOarNDTfXKAxCW5TtjxukVltvUAsppSyaZ-qyM7teVfpZoLxJYC-h4B8gW-4n1NwK5wW2u8KV9aty99SJvn6EU0YdleFxcW8STXqbGqo2njVTEg/s320/IMG_0753.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: left;">Phacelia tanacetifolia, Purple tansy, Southern Oregon Experiment Station, Medford, Oregon</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh049DOVZmYivXCk-9FHcr1SoDwlNMWUK-0APUP6k2B7YzL_J3CNgRZccTonBYs2qIukJPczDm_47fTpvIXQcmIAhiWaIq0kBh1d3NLsXiU_PuILZEYrtk52r633SUWCDEnycseqRJ0WQQ/s320/IMG_3935.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Applegate River, Oregon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigC40OHxBBZfOQ1_KO0LEO2in-sqUVLvE9GTkWeIHhuusffV8zHqvNa6a6d5cvTI6qjRJbxXonmEaQAN7zGeZJ7u5iZ7KJ_QChUNjihYuD7C8GjsNn-k-mEiNlTorp5bOJiTGBmaT4AuA/s320/IMG_3944.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Rose, Applegate Reservoir, Oregon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxss16mGZWUdBL69DIJQRaLasJj-8ZB28wNgwrkcRd-C_aDoMseaWRwyfqi5zwSTFBcHwjP2BxIcPEwq9eKE_gfQoEdWcWK85GXsJYPXXhHwOb26ac3fXTTUHGjrNoq8OMMC-KNXZa_Q/s320/IMG_3968.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lichen covered limbs hanging over Applegate Reservoir, Oregon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYz7NzBktbtijFWEqIoEPbJ45jkZUlT3tcAOs-qZm9kh5kGpO0SgRBrgn4rk65ZtB8qDoL19E43nRh6QEnOTbdykc3t9m8lviBwFmdo7Fhi6iQsxh2XTvJCX8bb3wa45GTiXoz7sKHGA/s320/IMG_0783.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Anigozanthos flavidus 'Yellow', Kangaroo Paw, Sacramento, California</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihe4t-9ePlGOgJ0BEaNwB9yS0QoD-yQ3XvUHVkzUjbJyL8l30YJQuX3booSKw40K-sGsyp7ox9tHBDBBbT-mNntW-_zPdEwIaWEMzjdl-BLV82N64grvm7Or01Wj3H1reUhdc-c1rUE5M/s320/IMG_0836.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jess, my host at the California State Fair, whose badge is being inspected by a friendly porcine.</td></tr>
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<br />See? I can take pictures of people too. Hope you enjoyed them.<br />
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<span id="goog_83437799"></span><span id="goog_83437800"></span><br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-18170454570086041462018-05-20T13:08:00.001-07:002018-05-20T13:08:36.948-07:00Home is where the plants are<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkXzWTgk0kpwuPeDloDpkTZnToeswLNttq1qaJWW9EM12dguGwgbbB9K2cWHopt9o7f6KDCiztEBfoLjQM1RznMrHM0t9y4dAmOE90goaYpmTkU99roqSZI8noeZEdfZ3qsyLNTfk9IM/s1600/IMG_3936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkXzWTgk0kpwuPeDloDpkTZnToeswLNttq1qaJWW9EM12dguGwgbbB9K2cWHopt9o7f6KDCiztEBfoLjQM1RznMrHM0t9y4dAmOE90goaYpmTkU99roqSZI8noeZEdfZ3qsyLNTfk9IM/s320/IMG_3936.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
I just returned from visiting my family in Oregon. It included a couple of quick visits to some old haunts in the valley and up the Siskiyous. May is the tail end of spring and it's heralded by roses, iris and rhododendrons.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-5U4zHta9gHgfCNplxsR_h8O3W14rEs7PCi_ZbBIu6gtVMpqFXqBX8cXX8pS2CjJp2jQG2atY-Kw3RzDmwuAI8BRSNYWS5D10wO0DqpGttD3NW6yPA3OOPyCJ_TVawtj0Qk5nZKAklU/s1600/IMG_3878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-5U4zHta9gHgfCNplxsR_h8O3W14rEs7PCi_ZbBIu6gtVMpqFXqBX8cXX8pS2CjJp2jQG2atY-Kw3RzDmwuAI8BRSNYWS5D10wO0DqpGttD3NW6yPA3OOPyCJ_TVawtj0Qk5nZKAklU/s200/IMG_3878.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
My goal for this trip was to get out in the mountains and just breathe. I miss the perfume of the forest, the sponginess of the moss, the waft of whatever is flowering, the quick flash of fish jumping. The Rogue Valley where I grew up is nestled between the Cascade and Siskiyou mountains, with a mix of environs and plants. There was still snow on the peaks but the spring flooding was over so the water was completely clear.<br />
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I was home.<br />
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Or was I?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHflMMvE675kH3M1oF7MPabYAGO4K5yvfjonRUkC-H_XoGxGVR3zcWcjZc1p-VDeu1nRKQpNMDw0aoljPL87OGXMXsGJedgGcPojVGMl7_S_SlLH9enz0whMn9pbz-swhFJpJGGIam5c/s1600/IMG_3968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHflMMvE675kH3M1oF7MPabYAGO4K5yvfjonRUkC-H_XoGxGVR3zcWcjZc1p-VDeu1nRKQpNMDw0aoljPL87OGXMXsGJedgGcPojVGMl7_S_SlLH9enz0whMn9pbz-swhFJpJGGIam5c/s200/IMG_3968.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
I couldn't help but think of the south marveling at the Antitrichia curtipendula moss growing on a Douglas fir that leaned over Applegate Lake. Even though it's a completely different plant than Spanish Moss (Tillandsia usneoides.) Then my mind went down THAT rabbit hole making me think of the ball moss (Tillandsia recurvata) that grows on the Live Oaks here in Austin. <br />
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Down by the dam, (Applegate river has an earthen reservoir to form the lake) the white quartz and orange shale reminded me of the yellow limestone here in Hill Country.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOQC3NMuq1lco0hE4IYbco-4ksW2aHyeKQEfDKmTXeXj-PG_CdyQvjhkqWcctN7uDYGvALU1bWAaKNdIShGR8Qzj_F5S2nkRAsOq9R5-zVwuiJtrD2-AM2UQR6mCbJr8-kSnXDvRzgP4/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOQC3NMuq1lco0hE4IYbco-4ksW2aHyeKQEfDKmTXeXj-PG_CdyQvjhkqWcctN7uDYGvALU1bWAaKNdIShGR8Qzj_F5S2nkRAsOq9R5-zVwuiJtrD2-AM2UQR6mCbJr8-kSnXDvRzgP4/s320/IMG_3953.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Of course the water in this lake was blue, not the interesting brown that you find in Austin.<br />
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Back down in the valley, I dragged Mom down Hanley Road to see if the strawberries were ripe (they were) and to stop in at the Southern Oregon Agricultural Experiment Station and Jackson County Extension service. They are always doing interesting plant trials. I was totally captivated by their cover crop mix featuring blue tansy (Phacelia tanacetifolia), purple vetch, rye grass, and volunteer wheat. The staff invited me to pick a bouquet. So I did.<br />
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<td>As a kid I would tromp through the pasture and pick grasses and weeds for bouquets. Alpine meadows were another special place where I just reveled in all the plants jammed into small areas. I guess that's why I love Texas and the prairie ecosystem, and those wildflowers! </td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs6F7S1KgFuyOF1uWAWzuRqklYI2DrHYy50twNNSUn1Atc2rk880tW8-RZR3QB06iVzPgvQEN6hAN0exctac2i-YxQYG1eulePwABfBdOTK78Oks9D_TcyDYMjCUN7UY1BsYS7-oJkDY/s1600/IMG_3922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs6F7S1KgFuyOF1uWAWzuRqklYI2DrHYy50twNNSUn1Atc2rk880tW8-RZR3QB06iVzPgvQEN6hAN0exctac2i-YxQYG1eulePwABfBdOTK78Oks9D_TcyDYMjCUN7UY1BsYS7-oJkDY/s320/IMG_3922.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOQC3NMuq1lco0hE4IYbco-4ksW2aHyeKQEfDKmTXeXj-PG_CdyQvjhkqWcctN7uDYGvALU1bWAaKNdIShGR8Qzj_F5S2nkRAsOq9R5-zVwuiJtrD2-AM2UQR6mCbJr8-kSnXDvRzgP4/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>
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Unfortunately, I was between wildflower seasons during my visit. The woodland flowers like Trilliums were done, and the late spring flowers like Shooting Stars (Dodecatheon hendersonii) and lilacs (Ceanothus) had a few more weeks to go. But luckily one of my favorites made an appearance by the trail. Calochortus elegans, or "kitty ears" as we always called them, were delightful. You can't go by one of these without petting the long hairs along the petals.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_EO3B2Bn2CpG5NfD2mOUYu6PUNVKkcSIvqKwy1EeTxPcpOtsTkndXxQPRY39uMecymZJ4iy8mrnwzet-wXZweNRpkSHxSJv_VYRMWbLUn_NHH4DlXgylzEgFBky5tAHLvZvehyphenhyphenHfLE4/s1600/IMG_3842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_EO3B2Bn2CpG5NfD2mOUYu6PUNVKkcSIvqKwy1EeTxPcpOtsTkndXxQPRY39uMecymZJ4iy8mrnwzet-wXZweNRpkSHxSJv_VYRMWbLUn_NHH4DlXgylzEgFBky5tAHLvZvehyphenhyphenHfLE4/s320/IMG_3842.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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But, I do the same thing with wine cup - a plant I couldn't grow to save my life in Oregon, but one that appears everywhere here in Central Texas.<br />
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I have to ask myself. Where is home? The mountains of Oregon with the perfume of respiring trees?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcx6Nc7SXi4swwPKToYpkc4OEWP5uwTz8RfdxuaetV59a1-bC6t47fm_kH2_gsuajH6GeaEuCbQmigkZtvjb_LJlsCr8M41UCDvsQT7fwbtkUwIipEJXZeFXl0Pb3mJH7sS8E54TePkY/s1600/IMG_3864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcx6Nc7SXi4swwPKToYpkc4OEWP5uwTz8RfdxuaetV59a1-bC6t47fm_kH2_gsuajH6GeaEuCbQmigkZtvjb_LJlsCr8M41UCDvsQT7fwbtkUwIipEJXZeFXl0Pb3mJH7sS8E54TePkY/s320/IMG_3864.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Or Texas?<br />
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Grasses or trees?<br />
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Kitty or doggy ears?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_EOH3uG3Qmd4t1sNHy-NPn1urWyYwl8NBewnYKS_pKzPl2SpXmrHob0DxPBOmSSKWLsDHjgwA1i7RfeVdqSWJZQD8l6z00zD5bM_AzSBpa16Mb57vyawtNiYI2_owr52wmO9Ohkxd6k/s1600/IMG_1119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_EOH3uG3Qmd4t1sNHy-NPn1urWyYwl8NBewnYKS_pKzPl2SpXmrHob0DxPBOmSSKWLsDHjgwA1i7RfeVdqSWJZQD8l6z00zD5bM_AzSBpa16Mb57vyawtNiYI2_owr52wmO9Ohkxd6k/s320/IMG_1119.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I don't know anymore. </div>
<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-9922752141614076972017-12-03T11:32:00.000-08:002017-12-03T11:32:25.501-08:00Cheerfully incompetent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaP8AnuHRONG9UmgeghxNw0_ERjfsUOU0M_e40IbTg-BDyh0eiBfqoHqiCN6cIhpI42dkXxtl1TMplPjNh70-RtnFGeFJgYHwwRZpZ9nHfnRjUzJT6yr0SF1n-El7XqJh-AcqXpjF1yY/s1600/IMG_0651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaP8AnuHRONG9UmgeghxNw0_ERjfsUOU0M_e40IbTg-BDyh0eiBfqoHqiCN6cIhpI42dkXxtl1TMplPjNh70-RtnFGeFJgYHwwRZpZ9nHfnRjUzJT6yr0SF1n-El7XqJh-AcqXpjF1yY/s320/IMG_0651.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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About 60 days ago I injured my back. I pulled up a tree and gave myself sciatic nerve issues. These past weeks have been agony, but I am lucky to have found a great chiropractic wellness center (which I fondly refer to as "the pain palace") and helpful advice from Jess and Val who have experienced the same thing. Walking the dog, using a standing desk at work, and lots of careful stretching have culminated into me getting back into the garden today.<br />
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What a mess it is. Weeds everywhere, compost stone cold, vegetables long past their pick date, roses that need deadheading, the list goes on.<br />
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But today my return outside was markedly different. I spent more time taking care of myself than taking care of the garden. I did my morning stretches, walked the dog, stretched again, then went outside. I limited my activity to two garden beds. I was out there for only a few hours and did some mildly strenuous work. Happy to report that I was able to bend and yank vines without issue. But then I cleaned and put away the tools, came into the house with the harvest, made myself a cup of tea and have called it good for the day.<br />
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I walked past the lima beans that desperately need to be picked. I walked past the green beans that are trying to outpace the weeds. I walked past the blooming dandelions and sow thistle. I walked past the crabgrass, horse herb, and johnson grass. I walked past the 10 bags of unopened mulch laying in the beds waiting to be spread. I walked past the okra and zinnias that are covered in powdery mildew. I walked past the garden beds that have rotted corner posts and are springing their sides. I walked past the boards that are cut and ready to use for bed repair.<br />
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Once I'd harvested the sweet potatoes and squash, I lightly raked the beds and threw on a cover crop of crimson clover. It's way too late to plant it. Worse, I just lightly patted it in and failed to give it the usual dusting of compost. I used five year old seed which has a small chance of germinating. I don't have a Plan B mulch prepared. I hear my own voice telling people during my master gardener speaking gigs never to do what I just did.<br />
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But I did it. Then I just walked away. Cheerfully incompetent.<br />
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This willingness to sacrifice myself for a bigger picture has always been a problem - and is something my employers are happy to exploit. I've got a huge compulsion to finish things, to work on large projects, to push myself to exhaustion. I don't spend time stretching, exercising, or just being quiet, all because I see some cog, some stray string, that needs to be repaired/built to keep the wheels of my life turning and the web of my existence intact.<br />
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And then my back said "uh uh girlfriend." My little voice reminded me that my friend Jennifer (who blogs at <a href="http://wwwrockrose.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rock Rose</a>) has always cautioned us to warm up, do some core work, and otherwise take care of ourselves before running outside and doing something stupid.<br />
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Yep.<br />
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So now I'm trying to do better. I'm trying to turn my focus from what needs to be done to what I must do to care for myself. And please, I'm not being a martyr, no one would ever describe me as a selfless humanitarian or care giver. "Hard worker" and "dependable" are two things that come up instead. I'll take that, but it's time to be a little less of those and more cheerfully incompetent - someone who is happy to turn away and not try to solve everything.<br />
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Someone without back issues. Ha!<br />
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Thanks for listening and don't call me if you need rock hauled.<br />
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-24098592725494650562017-08-05T06:20:00.000-07:002017-08-05T06:20:17.559-07:00Brown is the New Green - the Quest for a Sustainable Lawn<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMBsjO67ThGo-WuoUXYXzQIwCZKPDD8yTsv9XlOOadWlhAIKgM1S_D5hbtaA1fWEh5U-fXsQwFLxEAD1H4g_K6p59mYxKGRqghmTcMMttkOWYTrE8I_n8dd6jFMdSyV6_yRBitZv-ve8/s1600/IMG_0198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMBsjO67ThGo-WuoUXYXzQIwCZKPDD8yTsv9XlOOadWlhAIKgM1S_D5hbtaA1fWEh5U-fXsQwFLxEAD1H4g_K6p59mYxKGRqghmTcMMttkOWYTrE8I_n8dd6jFMdSyV6_yRBitZv-ve8/s320/IMG_0198.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carex texensis - in spring</td></tr>
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These hot August days have driven me inside for my summer dormancy where I weakly wave to my plants and wish them the best until October. I do suit up (hat, gloves, long sleeves) to mow my neighbor's lawn on occasion so that I can add the clippings to my compost.<br />
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Many people have strong opinions about lawns in relation to the chemicals and water resources used to keep it perfectly green. Not just lawns - driving home from work the sprinklers were mostly watering the road in an attempt to keep the median green.<br />
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My own front yard is approximately 625 square feet. If I watered it the recommended 1 inch per week, it would use about 1,677 gallons a month (1 inch of water = .62 gallons/square foot.) That's a lot of water to keep alive something that you can't eat or put into a vase. It will also require fertilizer to keep it going, which then means I'll have to mow it. Water, fertilizer (even if it is organic), and gasoline. Suddenly the word "sustainable" isn't springing to mind.</div>
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What is sustainable anyway? There are a lot of definitions. Environmentally speaking, some say it is anything that endures over time without artificial, or man-made input. Watering from a hose is not considered a sustainable act, while rain falling from the sky is. If you have to supplement plant growth in any form, that, to some, is not considered sustainable. The lines blur when you enter in the whole organic movement. Some say that as long as you use organic inputs, like cow manure or compost, you are being sustainable because those sources are renewable resources. So, if I go ahead and have a lawn, get rid of the mower and use a goat to graze and fertilize it, I'm being sustainable. To me the argument becomes ridiculous because having a patch of green grass that requires all this maintenance makes it artificial - and therefore not sustainable - to me. Plus I'm not fond of goats (used to raise them, don't want to repeat the experience.)</div>
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Clearly, there must be room in the middle. There is something about the makeup of human beings that loves to see a sea of green. Maybe it is our pastoral past where we associated green fields with good hunting. In any case, telling people to give up their lawn is just not going to fly. What we can do, is help people make better choices. Instead of a thirsty lawn of St Augustine, consider reducing the size of the lawn and plant more ornamentals. Trees and shrubs don't require as much maintenance and are just as lovely. We also must change. It should be perfectly fine to plant Buffalo Grass and let it go brown and dormant in the summer - thus eliminating the need to water at all. </div>
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My own lawn is history. I killed all my St Augustine grass seven years ago and planted sedges (<a href="http://www.wildflower.org/plants/result.php?id_plant=CATE7">Carex texensis</a>) in a much smaller footprint. I only water once a month if it hasn't rained and I don't mow it (although you can if you wish.) I've spread wildflower seed so that in the spring and early summer I have my own meadow. The peripheral ornamental beds are planted in natives and antique roses that don't need to be babied through the growing season. An added benefit is that many of the ornamentals provide food and habitat for our native birds most of the year.</div>
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It's my contribution toward being responsible to our growing population and shrinking resources. Water in Texas (and most elsewhere) is finite, and we all need to work together to make sure we conserve. Having a brown lawn should be a badge of pride - brown should be the new green!</div>
Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-44947811078707871482017-07-29T07:03:00.000-07:002017-07-29T07:06:56.725-07:00Farmstastic Working Farm at California State Fair Cal Expo Grounds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLeUU3GSl03A6SwJWqIH3zG32YUTIte3IJKiCYxi_kS6Zr9qgJEPhjwRT3BCbgq3sp_Djc6a2u3Q8-zR9hxg8NjkoSxsgwnToaxuNCjv_ZKA8EPuzwuVMvFUpnequM7BoWepeR2Qp4CI/s1600/IMG_0064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLeUU3GSl03A6SwJWqIH3zG32YUTIte3IJKiCYxi_kS6Zr9qgJEPhjwRT3BCbgq3sp_Djc6a2u3Q8-zR9hxg8NjkoSxsgwnToaxuNCjv_ZKA8EPuzwuVMvFUpnequM7BoWepeR2Qp4CI/s320/IMG_0064.JPG" width="320" /></a>I was lucky to spend my vacation with my best friend, Jess, who happens to be on the <a href="http://calexpo.com/us/board-directors/" target="_blank">The California Exposition and State Fair Board</a>. We grew up in 4-H and FFA, then went on to teach Vocational Agriculture, so going to fairs is a nerdy pleasure. For me it was especially nice to get out of the heat and humidity of Austin and enjoy dry days and cool nights in Sacramento, California.</div>
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The fair, as always, was a hoot and I am happy to announce I did real damage to the food booths. I also got to chat up the livestock exhibitors and discover all the people we have in common. Several hogs, goats, sheep, cattle, and even a sturgeon were petted and cooed over.<br />
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But the real highlight for me was <a href="http://www.castatefair.org/farm/" target="_blank">The Farm</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbV4MeTojBH0xC7Kwsl9hsapr1bxjdk9Wct9XKzKa1ihtj_N_41fpJB0TnyfnpD-CC5DLhUXBrXxiifzfJDQhNVv-la-netYBjhid5MQMqI4fkcSi_8N7iW27Fjt7NJkqrhpAibuKR7o/s1600/IMG_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbV4MeTojBH0xC7Kwsl9hsapr1bxjdk9Wct9XKzKa1ihtj_N_41fpJB0TnyfnpD-CC5DLhUXBrXxiifzfJDQhNVv-la-netYBjhid5MQMqI4fkcSi_8N7iW27Fjt7NJkqrhpAibuKR7o/s200/IMG_0044.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squash</td></tr>
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CalExpo has a working demonstration farm right on the grounds. And while I've seen other similar treatments, most notably the Children's Garden at the San Antonio Botanical Garden, this is a real working plot of land to showcase California agriculture.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7lVUfk_Ya6KCKJWY35Ir7NhRVGpF9Z9siGex_QAUhuD-t_5WLPyp7_jGYDJuIiC5f_8TFNxQzPbmJc0amlp-iT-bslVPI0MP-A3kEsIWf-FzGUBosRx2ttg6CttbUE-CY7r1LJLrA8U/s1600/IMG_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7lVUfk_Ya6KCKJWY35Ir7NhRVGpF9Z9siGex_QAUhuD-t_5WLPyp7_jGYDJuIiC5f_8TFNxQzPbmJc0amlp-iT-bslVPI0MP-A3kEsIWf-FzGUBosRx2ttg6CttbUE-CY7r1LJLrA8U/s200/IMG_0068.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLdadVG2zfcNkc1i-WwiuZSOhe0IrCyMdUe6aDh0kGGiX6vZackiVpxrJCGBV3ACGQqxmKPtAChYuiftEBOHtZl8xb3gEez4YARzz855HGFgQvSNViXB5A-6YnVMzngIL6-U0B8dHCBI/s1600/IMG_0071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLdadVG2zfcNkc1i-WwiuZSOhe0IrCyMdUe6aDh0kGGiX6vZackiVpxrJCGBV3ACGQqxmKPtAChYuiftEBOHtZl8xb3gEez4YARzz855HGFgQvSNViXB5A-6YnVMzngIL6-U0B8dHCBI/s200/IMG_0071.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; text-align: center;">Eggplant on other side of corn</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKppAZnJYy-3f-DMmbvkYcxSA9TDY3sow_X8mUAOiaeOkkCEgbXANRyHmAc5re86rbKXmkQaQ5EJd7ij7BfE83evTaddfitW3jyxoMrAg0UzWmkNni5YWW4AP_pKfw-f0HVvp7ao8VFnQ/s1600/IMG_0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKppAZnJYy-3f-DMmbvkYcxSA9TDY3sow_X8mUAOiaeOkkCEgbXANRyHmAc5re86rbKXmkQaQ5EJd7ij7BfE83evTaddfitW3jyxoMrAg0UzWmkNni5YWW4AP_pKfw-f0HVvp7ao8VFnQ/s200/IMG_0073.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Japanese Eggplant</td></tr>
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There are 3 1/2 acres where about 70 different crops are grown. It also features an outdoor kitchen, greenhouse, insect pavilion, blacksmith, and Farmer's market. Master Gardener volunteers are on hand to answer questions or you can stroll on your own to learn about drip irrigation, the crops featured, and other interpretive information on pollinators, water conservation, and soils.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeJ9ZG3EBuuqPBj7roCTVwtDkcXoyhg_FlOPiMbIgio9RRWTCwu_cA7M1bYH5AhzCP-28StiLKsT2IW6CeoS3jbCrsbhwJU8OXL-A3DQQ_yp8x3vvVSPIc8Xy-GEEAaRM6xm_Hs35mIo/s1600/IMG_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeJ9ZG3EBuuqPBj7roCTVwtDkcXoyhg_FlOPiMbIgio9RRWTCwu_cA7M1bYH5AhzCP-28StiLKsT2IW6CeoS3jbCrsbhwJU8OXL-A3DQQ_yp8x3vvVSPIc8Xy-GEEAaRM6xm_Hs35mIo/s200/IMG_0084.JPG" width="200" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19iYSkRfyRtN45jTKnWh9dy8Icbl9dQVOE_JlfrYXXzcwZRNpWNbYzyiEt5n-jQPlJ8RiHOMcD0sluF0kP1YYpy3WAIRjafJgFsadRg9mjgBob4deHiuFpOtng49CpCE7TSRdByAJilc/s1600/IMG_0066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19iYSkRfyRtN45jTKnWh9dy8Icbl9dQVOE_JlfrYXXzcwZRNpWNbYzyiEt5n-jQPlJ8RiHOMcD0sluF0kP1YYpy3WAIRjafJgFsadRg9mjgBob4deHiuFpOtng49CpCE7TSRdByAJilc/s200/IMG_0066.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-OdWqJLT6se04dZ7B018zGScyrwlYGDcBli2U68pZn20Uvq-YROkw1NaDD5cWWJNK39lBiK4yr0czND57L6_zzaQHCnZzQaby0MV4X8AaK1OWy4LJiQRGoIJUAw_LsWzE_L4JKVKqBM/s1600/IMG_0072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-OdWqJLT6se04dZ7B018zGScyrwlYGDcBli2U68pZn20Uvq-YROkw1NaDD5cWWJNK39lBiK4yr0czND57L6_zzaQHCnZzQaby0MV4X8AaK1OWy4LJiQRGoIJUAw_LsWzE_L4JKVKqBM/s200/IMG_0072.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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Kaiser Permanente is the main sponsor but others, like <a href="https://www.savemart.com/" target="_blank">Save Mart Supermarkets</a>, also contribute and participate. The Farm regularly hosts tours and has special programs for K-6 graders.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgstA9K1XiXKxOC9I5P3vQjq752dwGDcapPJeJC7zTHbjwMq4WYDbgoDT3yjIVtij5JcBO5MfiYSTC5815wPrOzkNO7UDfscDU-jFQIUu04XhcgzVgzykgxLYdOauFBGFlY2UJBMKkfE/s1600/IMG_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>
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What's cool about this is that it's all in raised beds using concrete landscaping blocks. This lifts the garden so it's easier to see but more importantly, allows them to install the farm right on the expo grounds. It also brings the flexibility to move things around as needed.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdf3ERc_zzvA6qGXf9N0QF0VWOGsqcpxIWecZDZE16P9AkjZgfAby2-XI6L8MQgAz6vL96knQdkUcaT8inVpS3_4_SQ9qkWqnDjOjBJFmMcXC-oHpVqcuAY7t2b7nibtqmHdX1rqbFCFk/s1600/IMG_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdf3ERc_zzvA6qGXf9N0QF0VWOGsqcpxIWecZDZE16P9AkjZgfAby2-XI6L8MQgAz6vL96knQdkUcaT8inVpS3_4_SQ9qkWqnDjOjBJFmMcXC-oHpVqcuAY7t2b7nibtqmHdX1rqbFCFk/s200/IMG_0045.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1oszfsZu4HbtoyiJvQprVeK-QdjoROZjpgTZturdhcET68ciTdksXjd11lfUsFptg8-JY_Cnhtg3mDcWMAUMPTJ9ZkXIW__kGuJquHjfixGmDGecb0RtjK1kcKGZBUN8gqxz5ASLNmQ/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1oszfsZu4HbtoyiJvQprVeK-QdjoROZjpgTZturdhcET68ciTdksXjd11lfUsFptg8-JY_Cnhtg3mDcWMAUMPTJ9ZkXIW__kGuJquHjfixGmDGecb0RtjK1kcKGZBUN8gqxz5ASLNmQ/s200/IMG_0043.JPG" width="150" /></a> I was captivated by the Barn Owl box they have installed. Since the neighbors cut down their tree that hawks nested in, I've been overrun with squirrels and rabbits in my fruit and vegetable garden. I'm thinking a nice Barn or Great Horned owl family is the just the ticket.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEdpm6jgouPZajBjar4gC9TG5lgtGlbU94N405bMNDEjEE7RC6a9TNcKPx7laLy7s8Xdg_5rbCJngAAtTyNbeSnDbHbbkApKso2MPc6z8Nq9RdSNid01kV3NwmcDHgyZWDGyaArLrZG4/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEdpm6jgouPZajBjar4gC9TG5lgtGlbU94N405bMNDEjEE7RC6a9TNcKPx7laLy7s8Xdg_5rbCJngAAtTyNbeSnDbHbbkApKso2MPc6z8Nq9RdSNid01kV3NwmcDHgyZWDGyaArLrZG4/s200/IMG_0075.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Armenian Cucumber</td></tr>
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While I was there the garden was well visited and I went to a couple of cooking demonstrations at "<a href="http://www.castatefair.org/the-grill/" target="_blank">the grill</a>" by <a href="http://www.nerdytruck.com/the-culinerd.html" target="_blank">Keith Breedlove</a> and learned some great new tips. Always a good day when I can combine cooking, gardening, farming, and eating! And it was all done safely due to the many, many, hand-washing stations. Jess and I had to wonder how we've escaped death given that we were raised around livestock, and while exhibiting at fairs shared meals and napped with our hogs (and steers and sheep and cows.) All that exposure must have given us ironclad immune systems.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgstA9K1XiXKxOC9I5P3vQjq752dwGDcapPJeJC7zTHbjwMq4WYDbgoDT3yjIVtij5JcBO5MfiYSTC5815wPrOzkNO7UDfscDU-jFQIUu04XhcgzVgzykgxLYdOauFBGFlY2UJBMKkfE/s1600/IMG_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgstA9K1XiXKxOC9I5P3vQjq752dwGDcapPJeJC7zTHbjwMq4WYDbgoDT3yjIVtij5JcBO5MfiYSTC5815wPrOzkNO7UDfscDU-jFQIUu04XhcgzVgzykgxLYdOauFBGFlY2UJBMKkfE/s200/IMG_0076.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Tomatoes on Trellis</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZYBfmPiLOdkOFCaJtQNXoMOWDgKXX7DVu4PBlpqYPpBoQh0du4BZ2f3epQNW5tVsCZ7B2bXLYx_efdMdTqV0Bwbe3NlnBcCeV2Nwo1KOoSoiYeBYVSl9kbbhM9JRXlXOBFWRRzjURCA/s1600/IMG_0085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZYBfmPiLOdkOFCaJtQNXoMOWDgKXX7DVu4PBlpqYPpBoQh0du4BZ2f3epQNW5tVsCZ7B2bXLYx_efdMdTqV0Bwbe3NlnBcCeV2Nwo1KOoSoiYeBYVSl9kbbhM9JRXlXOBFWRRzjURCA/s200/IMG_0085.JPG" width="200" /></a>Both Jess and I are gardeners so it's always fun to see what's growing. However, for many urban dwellers the idea of picking something from a tree or seeing a live squash is a thing of wonder.<br />
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Okay, maybe not the squash but those flowers are beautiful and made me hungry for my favorite <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/squash-blossoms-stuffed-with-ricotta-354966" target="_blank">Squash Blossoms Stuffed With Ricotta</a> recipe (I skip the tomatoes and add in feta.)<br />
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Was also fun to see the wine grapes growing (and even more fun drinking the wine slushies that were featured in the SaveMart Wine Garden.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR93gBFX-l9NQ-FAXLrKqdKMmMHRNtDVi1HpdrxlNovSPXMzu5tbSCW8wgDAF1VMIwfbWHoC_HhKectIRQnWaceKGe0gh39bHjQqA8QlblrSieZBI7_qTMdLVEYzXM5fTJ8GmfoqR_j18/s1600/IMG_0082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR93gBFX-l9NQ-FAXLrKqdKMmMHRNtDVi1HpdrxlNovSPXMzu5tbSCW8wgDAF1VMIwfbWHoC_HhKectIRQnWaceKGe0gh39bHjQqA8QlblrSieZBI7_qTMdLVEYzXM5fTJ8GmfoqR_j18/s200/IMG_0082.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQliLwG4XoggFoVwPxG9Paq-lqOZAFo-FzJpWDihe-QLYg91fsKEYaSJzFvZphmYtty7QgBBs2kBgfxtnoSBVDj41DnxjnGz5BU9UK8wM-toJUOZYzHxk4Bgj1pIgDbI5CmqLaUhyphenhyphenzm8/s1600/IMG_0070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQliLwG4XoggFoVwPxG9Paq-lqOZAFo-FzJpWDihe-QLYg91fsKEYaSJzFvZphmYtty7QgBBs2kBgfxtnoSBVDj41DnxjnGz5BU9UK8wM-toJUOZYzHxk4Bgj1pIgDbI5CmqLaUhyphenhyphenzm8/s200/IMG_0070.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeLnvtbiL4Y9rn6OG_Li4pNWJvidC8_DeslUTJcMg9ezSsrABM0eFPN59rtzkU6ZbFO13VthdjYE5_BeiGcqhZk7e1R7ybsuho9egxpvbk144fv1cX2raVMNQOAlLyoMpK3m6hKGK4MM/s1600/IMG_0067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeLnvtbiL4Y9rn6OG_Li4pNWJvidC8_DeslUTJcMg9ezSsrABM0eFPN59rtzkU6ZbFO13VthdjYE5_BeiGcqhZk7e1R7ybsuho9egxpvbk144fv1cX2raVMNQOAlLyoMpK3m6hKGK4MM/s200/IMG_0067.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oranges (not quite ripe!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My kiwis that I grew in Oregon didn't look half as good as the vines they had.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMN4m0Asz_cal82pSVc_Yz77cEFz2xj2zHLOrGPHyi-8pcdRNNLnhyzg6HFeGARh7q32zKP_raKuqiZVDIeq2COVpGn_GJkbfMSmfGlncAxtx2hhYEby0VdOHoBSG5cL9U7lqfqu4z8A/s1600/IMG_0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMN4m0Asz_cal82pSVc_Yz77cEFz2xj2zHLOrGPHyi-8pcdRNNLnhyzg6HFeGARh7q32zKP_raKuqiZVDIeq2COVpGn_GJkbfMSmfGlncAxtx2hhYEby0VdOHoBSG5cL9U7lqfqu4z8A/s200/IMG_0079.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; text-align: center;">Kiwi Vine and Fruit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxDQAWpNK0O__31W012HQK9pvj-7tRL8uqLhXx40wY68wzqkAJ9yr9Ru9lLwImwyXtrzvIb7K6-Z_l_SkZvtsg6DdZNjznMoV1Rchiji-dAIFR8bODexYKGWiSQJHozmh0emi02LMoCo/s1600/IMG_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxDQAWpNK0O__31W012HQK9pvj-7tRL8uqLhXx40wY68wzqkAJ9yr9Ru9lLwImwyXtrzvIb7K6-Z_l_SkZvtsg6DdZNjznMoV1Rchiji-dAIFR8bODexYKGWiSQJHozmh0emi02LMoCo/s200/IMG_0081.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apples</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The other tree fruit were all properly espaliered to show off the ripening produce. Very hard not to just pick it all - but the fruits of this labor go to the local food bank.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMBIGnsS9QnYzdUpen0-o9z9Z0mhhbittuJYnE9FUpgK1DtOMnJSJKYin_9AcXIX-L1qRfwghpyBSl8M1cOErBziL4eDeBPbpERr45yZske_PEHFA7XZb2umN83fIxqcECFmoAiHa-jo/s1600/IMG_0080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMBIGnsS9QnYzdUpen0-o9z9Z0mhhbittuJYnE9FUpgK1DtOMnJSJKYin_9AcXIX-L1qRfwghpyBSl8M1cOErBziL4eDeBPbpERr45yZske_PEHFA7XZb2umN83fIxqcECFmoAiHa-jo/s200/IMG_0080.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apples</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSm30kAqJHuqF-n-M194wOF4M8olMbqZxiHsGpcd8lLpr3F5SslTZVZQlk7UMvz7oHhFXqAvQg5Hw9o5-GN9hT1acCtmYNeYxGlJ1yr8b_9BkoWgN5MPJPeLIWiSoAfFpLaA6Z_oq34bA/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSm30kAqJHuqF-n-M194wOF4M8olMbqZxiHsGpcd8lLpr3F5SslTZVZQlk7UMvz7oHhFXqAvQg5Hw9o5-GN9hT1acCtmYNeYxGlJ1yr8b_9BkoWgN5MPJPeLIWiSoAfFpLaA6Z_oq34bA/s200/IMG_0083.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apricots</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8H_bzqAziFRqHbZpF5VkDwyVs25gV9S16IrgcBh3j7A_C9v0kgAGvqnDleWsv6wyr0OglgrG0f7J3C3frEblaYuWG2GnPzxGyiLa26IMmDJtVEgS5RIgUawB-5JCtYQ2M6wkw8cxMfM/s1600/IMG_0074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8H_bzqAziFRqHbZpF5VkDwyVs25gV9S16IrgcBh3j7A_C9v0kgAGvqnDleWsv6wyr0OglgrG0f7J3C3frEblaYuWG2GnPzxGyiLa26IMmDJtVEgS5RIgUawB-5JCtYQ2M6wkw8cxMfM/s200/IMG_0074.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cantaloupe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhispg3rD6n6qt9Ypz_U-nJL4e3x2HqPQmmDu2svtcg2-inYOYpIqFRf94JwZsS5sWN6CNijS1VYLvEREu5iH3xuly9Evdv_NtiMsOcXhfaXOEyCB1Rzy2bseEfu9LuANk16jgSlsV1QbE/s1600/IMG_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhispg3rD6n6qt9Ypz_U-nJL4e3x2HqPQmmDu2svtcg2-inYOYpIqFRf94JwZsS5sWN6CNijS1VYLvEREu5iH3xuly9Evdv_NtiMsOcXhfaXOEyCB1Rzy2bseEfu9LuANk16jgSlsV1QbE/s200/IMG_0065.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strawberries</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lRCioDKSk092iN9Ht-4rWHtgtSzeHvelio42SQgVDW8nMsRViArC_l2qfHpPvmK-oENx1TIQIVDrV3VWRUI7jzLfVGUYernLOEsSByfSOdB_k5hXY-9aF_YFry_0yY7_U2cSXegzzSI/s1600/IMG_0078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lRCioDKSk092iN9Ht-4rWHtgtSzeHvelio42SQgVDW8nMsRViArC_l2qfHpPvmK-oENx1TIQIVDrV3VWRUI7jzLfVGUYernLOEsSByfSOdB_k5hXY-9aF_YFry_0yY7_U2cSXegzzSI/s200/IMG_0078.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watermelon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZUB7S1UKBczj0SYRXX78a8c0M8dm8TkSZGvf_nv-Pdf0fl-emRu1rWC1aAkKAWDKmgYtA9X_cgn4EXrzKV12ZICJnK1p2U6EVJZXSkceoQUxo5QuGVNQ9v3rboN0HskreQP2pxhTalk/s1600/IMG_0069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZUB7S1UKBczj0SYRXX78a8c0M8dm8TkSZGvf_nv-Pdf0fl-emRu1rWC1aAkKAWDKmgYtA9X_cgn4EXrzKV12ZICJnK1p2U6EVJZXSkceoQUxo5QuGVNQ9v3rboN0HskreQP2pxhTalk/s200/IMG_0069.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spaghetti squash</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And just in case you are worrying, I did spend time elsewhere. There was live music sprinkled throughout and time looking at quilts, photography, painting, and other fine arts. I took two classes: one in wine tasting and the other in extra virgin olive oil. Watched jam and chocolate dessert judging and sampled some incredible local cheese. Also very moved by their new exhibit celebrating <a href="http://ufw.org/the-first-farm-worker-exhibit-in-the-164-year-history-of-the-california-state-fair/">professional farm workers</a>. The Chavez family was there and it reminded me of my own family's history as California migrant farm workers in the Great Depression. It is America's story - people who work the fields (or factories, or mines, or woods) in order to provide their families with a better life, then proudly send their children to college. I am very grateful that I got to be there for the ribbon cutting. Poetry - celebrating the growers, harvest, and the harvesters all at once. As it should be.</div>
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A special thanks to the amazing staff and board members at CalExpo who made me feel welcome and allowed me to tag along with Jess. It was very cool to see the behind the scenes work of pulling off an event like this (which runs three weeks: July 14 to July 30.) Let's just say it was easy to sleep on the plane when I returned home.</div>
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Now, how DID they make that bacon wrapped ear of corn and how much wine to add into the ice cream machine to produce a slushie? </div>
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-68673537496091419912017-01-07T12:56:00.000-08:002017-01-08T13:17:20.979-08:00Favorite photos from 2016It's been quite a year for me. I traveled to Europe for the first time, one of my oldest friends died from pancreatic cancer, my husband's illness has worsened, and my dad died. Oh yeah, and the world has gone to hell thanks to our recent Presidential election.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXxnq3yAUYpO-s4lNk_9Kh6_vHVMC6sJVxrZzfFJvG6jdREs5AmtUMDhWMYQyOqys0jbIEhzMAI4kndp_6VnH0hYuRfWW6l5LQ0XdrlbrYqJjkWNimW28yyUoejJBtrY5jxkIggw6zTQ/s1600/IMG_3488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXxnq3yAUYpO-s4lNk_9Kh6_vHVMC6sJVxrZzfFJvG6jdREs5AmtUMDhWMYQyOqys0jbIEhzMAI4kndp_6VnH0hYuRfWW6l5LQ0XdrlbrYqJjkWNimW28yyUoejJBtrY5jxkIggw6zTQ/s200/IMG_3488.JPG" width="150" /></a>Just. Breathe.<br />
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So I continue to avoid the news, tend my garden, bake bread, volunteer where needed to reverse this political tide, and remember the bright spots.<br />
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Here are my points of light represented in photos.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlCOJf4YNIpbqxQu_flG5_pbyldAG0r-axC7z-Tz_2l8VnyXvsz2D4nm0ZpCeW-c_jhEHtWwdyAGLztnaC_eJB5g-n5WrC-1b8FLgrdGCb96DC1CwW21RKLyZNGbTy-iyVl61Ms5kuNE/s1600/IMG_1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlCOJf4YNIpbqxQu_flG5_pbyldAG0r-axC7z-Tz_2l8VnyXvsz2D4nm0ZpCeW-c_jhEHtWwdyAGLztnaC_eJB5g-n5WrC-1b8FLgrdGCb96DC1CwW21RKLyZNGbTy-iyVl61Ms5kuNE/s640/IMG_1228.JPG" title="Bernini 'David'" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bernini's David</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ZgCPI8tkH3gkptdUJC4LvusJXw-5FOot2ZbiSX68PFqk7KnfBaEchWQhV_2cRz5J0NyRuw7m16e-VJw3m-UyQFCGNOkbPdTvFHQjPGYvUWE4RUQZpybXbbaDxVPOntudp66u9UrG2No/s1600/IMG_1934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ZgCPI8tkH3gkptdUJC4LvusJXw-5FOot2ZbiSX68PFqk7KnfBaEchWQhV_2cRz5J0NyRuw7m16e-VJw3m-UyQFCGNOkbPdTvFHQjPGYvUWE4RUQZpybXbbaDxVPOntudp66u9UrG2No/s640/IMG_1934.JPG" width="480" /></a> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michelangelo's David</td></tr>
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Never before have I stood in front of stone and watched the subject breathe. These depictions of David were alive. The detail, the look in his eyes, the muscular stance, all mind blowing. The Bernini statue is at the <a href="http://www.galleriaborghese.it/" target="_blank">Borghese Gallery</a> in Rome. The Michelangelo statue, which is about 17 feet tall, is in Florence at the <a href="http://www.accademia.org/" target="_blank">Accademia Gallery</a>. These photos aren't particularly artistic, but they take me back there, and for that reason are a favorite.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Jtx_s1DMA_kbm5YbzuSIXkez-7GqdkO8SbedpTYNwgEg5VAFATR-ayUHhBZMz1w8EORpVkgnj-4z2VdMMGOf-LG22mv9UFwhEMlv_f9ivC0lB9UnA6G8zsvfU4PhDT31-DyFb1Q7pP4/s1600/IMG_1976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Jtx_s1DMA_kbm5YbzuSIXkez-7GqdkO8SbedpTYNwgEg5VAFATR-ayUHhBZMz1w8EORpVkgnj-4z2VdMMGOf-LG22mv9UFwhEMlv_f9ivC0lB9UnA6G8zsvfU4PhDT31-DyFb1Q7pP4/s640/IMG_1976.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ponte Vecchio Bridge, Florence</td></tr>
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Florence was a schooling in the Medici family. Their status and wealth funded much of the Renaissance and their legacy is still staggering. The Ponte Vecchio over the Arno River was basically a covered, elevated walkway for them that connected Palazzo Pitti to the Palazzo Vecchio. When I rounded the corner after visiting the Ufitzi it seemed to briefly transport me to the Florence of the 1500's.</div>
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The goal in Florence was primarily to visit the Ufitzi and Accademia, beyond that I didn't schedule us for anything in particular. After the Ufitzi we had lunch on the south side of the Ponte Vecchio and then wandered further south past Pitti Palace. I had no interest in touring that facility so we kept walking and crashed right into Boboli Gardens. I've seen photos of it in various books and magazines so am familiar with it. I could not believe I just walked right to it. Some sort of horticultural tractor beam, I believe. I had completely forgotten that it was in Florence and, duh, right behind Pitti Palace. I kick myself for not knowing that ahead of time so that we could have spent most of the day there. As it was, we were both tired and my husband isn't really a garden enthusiast, so I wanted to be sensitive to his health. This meant I went through that garden at 40 miles an hour.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZUatFczYDXUDDuSW_xztSceSRspYNFq2TWgICzJCfg8W-LcV2Rb6z3QRabfgcwAqZW2-rZ1XrhuJCHpEoPdvwdInDSbO2IrTsmG9x8plPh7W8IGI3i0Fl2qYKZ1161hVq9UVTBMwuHU/s1600/IMG_2003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZUatFczYDXUDDuSW_xztSceSRspYNFq2TWgICzJCfg8W-LcV2Rb6z3QRabfgcwAqZW2-rZ1XrhuJCHpEoPdvwdInDSbO2IrTsmG9x8plPh7W8IGI3i0Fl2qYKZ1161hVq9UVTBMwuHU/s640/IMG_2003.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peonies in formal Boboli garden</td></tr>
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Oh, and what a garden. The site is about 11 acres and overlooks the Duomo and the rest of downtown Florence. Florence is a busy place with lots of traffic and noise. But when you enter this garden it is completely muffled and all you can hear is bird song. This is mainly due to the use of "wild" areas. The individual garden rooms are all buffered by expanses of mature trees and unmanicured undergrowth. As a result, you have to really hike around to see everything - as if you could. This is someplace to visit multiple, multiple times, not only for the garden but for the statuary. When the garden was installed the Medici hired local artists to build pieces specifically for the garden. "Local" artists means some of the greatest of all time. Ah, the life of the Medici family.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW77aitRT_84hoRZAxaFstCR9NVf9rZ8yLwpCSpLLXq7s9W8J6ubsMEXA0W053kJZXTKrE5Z1peupb9IvZOVdNX2WeafobNedohYtz37NEk0UeM5fiFE8ZO-Sz0RFXNXoAiKFuaMPwnsQ/s1600/IMG_2013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW77aitRT_84hoRZAxaFstCR9NVf9rZ8yLwpCSpLLXq7s9W8J6ubsMEXA0W053kJZXTKrE5Z1peupb9IvZOVdNX2WeafobNedohYtz37NEk0UeM5fiFE8ZO-Sz0RFXNXoAiKFuaMPwnsQ/s640/IMG_2013.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neptune's fountain, Boboli Gardens</td></tr>
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It's not often that you can visit a garden that is 500 years old (construction started in 1550.) The allee of Cyprus trees features mature specimens and walking amongst them I felt like I was being ushered by benevolent, majestic, thoughtful, protective, Ents (Lord of the Rings reference.) The light was not the best that day but I love the perspective of the photo.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cyprus Allee, Boboli Gardens</td></tr>
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I'm hoping you don't see this as "How I spent my vacation" but most of my favorites are from the trip. We caught up with our booked garden tour in Varenna, Italy. The residents have done a good job of maintaining the neo classical buildings and all of the ones in the town were beautifully painted. Of course, I had to find the orange house with green shutters. I have no idea why I am attracted to Orange (my garage doors are the same color as this photo) but I spied this immediately. I love the color and texture contrast. I took about 20 of these all over town - thankfully you will be spared.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Shutters Varenna, Italy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Varenna, Italy</td></tr>
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Varenna is on Lake Como so a lot of our activities required a ferry trip. I love this photo of the town nestled into the hillside in all it's colorful splendor. Around every corner and down every street was incredible beauty. I was out of breath a lot because I was continually gasping from delight. All the while though, I could hear my dad in my head. He always maintained that there is no reason to travel because the Pacific Northwest is the most beautiful and jaw-dropping place on the planet. I have to admit that I am biased to almost agree. As I visited these places and wondered at their marvels, I couldn't help but compare it to places where I grew up. Rather than being bored or smug it made the world much smaller. Here the old world looks very much like the new world from a geography point of view. Seeing those Alps crash into the Mediterranean sea had the same effect as when I first saw the Rockies rise up out of the prairie. I felt as if I'd come home - and the people I met seemed like family. Probably WERE family since I am of European descent.</div>
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At the Melzi garden this gondola caught my eye as we approached the main house. The whole scene was beautifully framed by the pollarded <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Platanus_%C3%97_acerifolia" target="_blank">London Plane</a> trees. Those trees were all over Italy and the south of France. I learned that their horizontal branches provided much needed shade in the summer months.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Giardini di Villa Melzi, Bellagio, Italy</td></tr>
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Still on Lake Como, a visit to Lugano Switzerland provided this unexpected sight. The sculpture depicts "Eros Bound". It is quite large and there were little kids climbing through it when we walked by. It's a haunting image to me even though severed heads are a commonplace on tv.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_UUUcomTcZt6y0ZRLO3S5Hp22ggylp3yOGmRhtoFXxbAIZmu0ugqXeHnlZ39EB3VS3Xnrz3LeNiy4mpWtKvgiqxtfSLerrlE8phb6lh9biHQNWCKQBqAN5G-h_0GGNeZSrn0FYZZOzU/s1600/IMG_2174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_UUUcomTcZt6y0ZRLO3S5Hp22ggylp3yOGmRhtoFXxbAIZmu0ugqXeHnlZ39EB3VS3Xnrz3LeNiy4mpWtKvgiqxtfSLerrlE8phb6lh9biHQNWCKQBqAN5G-h_0GGNeZSrn0FYZZOzU/s640/IMG_2174.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eros Bendato, Mitoraj, 1999, Lugano, Switzerland</td></tr>
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On the way to France we stopped off in Monte Carlo. That sea is such an amazing color of blue. The ubiquitous prickly pear was a little reminder from home. Elsewhere Agave Americana bloom stalks dotted the view. Apparently they are an invasive species in southern Europe. Makes me smile. Payback is a bitch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQt6CRpyOP1k25o1IJBtBiH2eaxisLEGHpdAXbrF9Cj4gOXfb1RV5TLxLM1Eei5FGrIBzjG0N8NMKsV9AjAc-qVFFsOaW_eAG4gT4hIOVfaO-3Le8jeRwmT5k40_PUjweYx6ndPsF_Jo/s1600/IMG_2375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQt6CRpyOP1k25o1IJBtBiH2eaxisLEGHpdAXbrF9Cj4gOXfb1RV5TLxLM1Eei5FGrIBzjG0N8NMKsV9AjAc-qVFFsOaW_eAG4gT4hIOVfaO-3Le8jeRwmT5k40_PUjweYx6ndPsF_Jo/s640/IMG_2375.JPG" width="480" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8OHfT1ucu2n1P-PZAGlPdQYTJkmRq17eUuKwBuB9GCTyuYxktny6mfBm7llxdZ0it6g57WE2PukorAF1Vp3_mYohuHjKWWCIokJPAqpa5KCD3kfM4LScbfNdOo6nrOIwlkAWjGR-lMw/s1600/IMG_2374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8OHfT1ucu2n1P-PZAGlPdQYTJkmRq17eUuKwBuB9GCTyuYxktny6mfBm7llxdZ0it6g57WE2PukorAF1Vp3_mYohuHjKWWCIokJPAqpa5KCD3kfM4LScbfNdOo6nrOIwlkAWjGR-lMw/s640/IMG_2374.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prickly Pear and Agave overhanging Mediterranean Sea, Monte Carlo</td></tr>
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In France we were fortunate to visit the garden of Lawrence Johnston. Yes, that's right, HIM. After creating Hidcote he retired to the south of France and began work on his own garden, <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serre_de_la_Madone" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Serre de la Madone">Serre de la Madone</a>, outside of Menton, France. What I like about this garden is that I could just imagine him futzing around deciding where to put all the plants he collected.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5Ya-7bBAKRXGwLv5nYvoJII28UcUz6eh7kEDoK_0dd6KA58giJb618eyokNQ7akBp43XrgDtdPzL-wddMBjqNobWX4iV-k0ne54o-eQo5603E3dgFFd_Z_-0b_jcplOp64GNnnm3pEw/s1600/IMG_2498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5Ya-7bBAKRXGwLv5nYvoJII28UcUz6eh7kEDoK_0dd6KA58giJb618eyokNQ7akBp43XrgDtdPzL-wddMBjqNobWX4iV-k0ne54o-eQo5603E3dgFFd_Z_-0b_jcplOp64GNnnm3pEw/s640/IMG_2498.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moorish Garden, Serre de la Madone, Menton, France</td></tr>
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There were so many amazing plants and garden rooms, I was very glad we were allowed to just walk around and soak it in. The spent Chasmanthe bicolor danced in the sunlight in the Angels Staircase Garden. It was surrounded by an old and dark olive orchard. Rounding the corner into this spot of sunshine was magical.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-21mwJNVu5m-sxTgHK0Gn1y_PXEViggjAnfEVqhQhXFglvkGhzTNFR7yDboGNX5LEg76NmRCxvDkkffZI6APgHqRmlkfOMoSpW74h07iDuKHyarJ7yZ1w7UEyCBfiu4ysCyaMIDKNIKg/s1600/IMG_2518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-21mwJNVu5m-sxTgHK0Gn1y_PXEViggjAnfEVqhQhXFglvkGhzTNFR7yDboGNX5LEg76NmRCxvDkkffZI6APgHqRmlkfOMoSpW74h07iDuKHyarJ7yZ1w7UEyCBfiu4ysCyaMIDKNIKg/s640/IMG_2518.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Chasmanthe bicolor at Serre de la Madone, Menton, France</span></span></td></tr>
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Menton, France used to be part of Italy, and has the same lovely neoclassical look. These buildings are made of stone blocks that have been stuccoed and painted. So beautiful you don't know where to look...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBn1_UNunBjznQ54NYLRUGb1VmkTjmUFtZIzy4CDxsdUx_2degeXe6hEiVvOnegY6nHKaWUS03JOHX5dzIZPWgkCtLfesW_fVtiaUBDZngExnvuGCpKU3Ct8losv8_egHEIc8RO_gjfk/s1600/IMG_2429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBn1_UNunBjznQ54NYLRUGb1VmkTjmUFtZIzy4CDxsdUx_2degeXe6hEiVvOnegY6nHKaWUS03JOHX5dzIZPWgkCtLfesW_fVtiaUBDZngExnvuGCpKU3Ct8losv8_egHEIc8RO_gjfk/s640/IMG_2429.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Basilique Saint Michel and red tile roofs in Menton, France</td></tr>
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...until you see this, which is, by far, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The bloom is about the size of a Peace rose, but the colors and form were like a painting. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxWgWYNFHQQSwLM7i-znHR-90vORk-VdHue8XX2Z-h3DFO02p7zTmuj3uZMWPCFN9eHS1xSmS61RNT6jE4mDAN155X_DFH_ysbqYiRw-kkYg1ShqTwWgvpXb02GRE_djHpNIVZfkTttg/s1600/IMG_2578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxWgWYNFHQQSwLM7i-znHR-90vORk-VdHue8XX2Z-h3DFO02p7zTmuj3uZMWPCFN9eHS1xSmS61RNT6jE4mDAN155X_DFH_ysbqYiRw-kkYg1ShqTwWgvpXb02GRE_djHpNIVZfkTttg/s640/IMG_2578.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.petales-de-roses.com/fr/rosiers-a-grandes-fleurs/478-jean-piat-adacorhuit.html" target="_blank">Jean Piat</a> rose, Menton France</td></tr>
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Market day in Menton was such a treat. Yes, I ate my way through it. Citrus has always been an important component to the Menton economy. They have a whole garden dedicated to it and a particular variety of lemon that they have developed. The limoncello they make from their lemon is very good. Two bottles (okay, and some jam) came home with me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkbkUuFPiwB6YZkEi9rhicoF_PO22GDw_hBcBOvJ8XgtZNYNtexuQrww1YMNdIwBKzSlUGTaVgU-amDHRM1rLqFvxuoik1vcWJxZxJaopTght_bUOI1eq6eRYHtj3pVWPNt3vE_cfhxM/s1600/IMG_1723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkbkUuFPiwB6YZkEi9rhicoF_PO22GDw_hBcBOvJ8XgtZNYNtexuQrww1YMNdIwBKzSlUGTaVgU-amDHRM1rLqFvxuoik1vcWJxZxJaopTght_bUOI1eq6eRYHtj3pVWPNt3vE_cfhxM/s640/IMG_1723.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8xKrFTur14v6yQ4xqukc_ZMy7lAlfMIQtbAS73qdiseuqThNbEZckrf6ULTLBEe9clfG0PO8SAHYS2zupVNpusQVvyA1abvoul186B5glmPVt_GbTUyUW57MG-WJSbr-3AKVUWrAS98/s1600/IMG_2582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8xKrFTur14v6yQ4xqukc_ZMy7lAlfMIQtbAS73qdiseuqThNbEZckrf6ULTLBEe9clfG0PO8SAHYS2zupVNpusQVvyA1abvoul186B5glmPVt_GbTUyUW57MG-WJSbr-3AKVUWrAS98/s640/IMG_2582.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmer's Market, Menton, France</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-sYhVHFryG9-cQ65ie9YzYt0TBHqky_1Bd4JGbOIUpNIiCTV_5YQzngVUjo9yzZ7yryVO1DPern3RJDTpV24rDUS2v7RtX3c0qufPx0-aPpYu1RbUX5nBjy6T-CzFOK8N-dYGNmL6MU/s1600/IMG_2562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-sYhVHFryG9-cQ65ie9YzYt0TBHqky_1Bd4JGbOIUpNIiCTV_5YQzngVUjo9yzZ7yryVO1DPern3RJDTpV24rDUS2v7RtX3c0qufPx0-aPpYu1RbUX5nBjy6T-CzFOK8N-dYGNmL6MU/s640/IMG_2562.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pomelo Duncan - Citrus paradisi Macf. Menton, France </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe3AnfAWWq2yUVd7So2zA3b6gAz3255LdgOX6nbFxC3gIINkKIlxkxJnUVq-JnkOlRVuKmoI64F-6b-n4K6auu9TFxYyu3sLfmVWmotYIVDDGXOBIsyR7VZZPTd9JSC20eJ89Bv2Gon8/s1600/IMG_2448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe3AnfAWWq2yUVd7So2zA3b6gAz3255LdgOX6nbFxC3gIINkKIlxkxJnUVq-JnkOlRVuKmoI64F-6b-n4K6auu9TFxYyu3sLfmVWmotYIVDDGXOBIsyR7VZZPTd9JSC20eJ89Bv2Gon8/s640/IMG_2448.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gratuitous cute cat picture. They have chicken wire over the window and the iron work is actually painted on the building. Menton, France</span></span></td></tr>
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I really hated to leave Menton because there was so much more to see and I didn't get to any of the gardens along the beachfront. I also didn't fulfill a wish to swim in the Mediterranean Sea. It's definitely a place I'm going back to. And when I do, I know just where to start.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3LPDfLtjm7wqgzArOmGWUpH-t_qGM4TmUGCSt6qcBZDhsdtCCDJOv3Qpz3kVnxuVcDga01Bi1iQjB5gq6gZTq8AvsKkTnOQaRU27pVWub4DJI4pz8EeorFS7oSOTkwsQfG2oMbLZ0BA0/s1600/IMG_0147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3LPDfLtjm7wqgzArOmGWUpH-t_qGM4TmUGCSt6qcBZDhsdtCCDJOv3Qpz3kVnxuVcDga01Bi1iQjB5gq6gZTq8AvsKkTnOQaRU27pVWub4DJI4pz8EeorFS7oSOTkwsQfG2oMbLZ0BA0/s640/IMG_0147.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beachfront, Menton France</td></tr>
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It was May and the roses were at their peak, which was ever so evident at the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild, Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, France.</div>
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Pink was Baroness Béatrice de Rothschild's favorite color and roses were at the top of the plant list. The frothy blooms were spilling over edges, ballooning in between other plants, and pooling into soft mounds along the pathways.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPLS9q9MIpdm1Dc8CaLe7926pZG7WiGHRqfcXsAFlQH_XdwIDpXDLnEviJvmDI0lorYX7ENeephKp3RgUSmFfqB_aDQefRDdte1U2SlvQnK1veNxEnyuznYD06QnfrZ81_vuPtJztDTU/s1600/IMG_2590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPLS9q9MIpdm1Dc8CaLe7926pZG7WiGHRqfcXsAFlQH_XdwIDpXDLnEviJvmDI0lorYX7ENeephKp3RgUSmFfqB_aDQefRDdte1U2SlvQnK1veNxEnyuznYD06QnfrZ81_vuPtJztDTU/s640/IMG_2590.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;">Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild, Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, France</span></td></tr>
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Like the other gardens we visited, new world plants were showcased, but put into the landscape in English Cottage style. The effect was mesmerizing and I'm trying to figure out how to do it properly in my own garden.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHvS7io1HMhr_WDOT69Gm3hpPJHA9Z7BBhllD1IX0cmTVUArYD1nqdBFfHgjhEP5U_rNTm1ud4cqzIgcMg-Y1J8-si7LEemL2P7XWSfZwtbv965wCzFqRPioP7eBz_29F4HKlsYmHLZI/s1600/IMG_2586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHvS7io1HMhr_WDOT69Gm3hpPJHA9Z7BBhllD1IX0cmTVUArYD1nqdBFfHgjhEP5U_rNTm1ud4cqzIgcMg-Y1J8-si7LEemL2P7XWSfZwtbv965wCzFqRPioP7eBz_29F4HKlsYmHLZI/s640/IMG_2586.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;">Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild, Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, France</span></td></tr>
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In Provence we encountered numerous Roman ruins, one of which is the Pont du Gard aqueduct. It's gigantic - and so precise. There's no mortar in this and running my hands over the stone in the arches gave me goosebumps. Human beings built this. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_du_Gard" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a> has a great excerpt written by Jean-Jacques Rousseau when he first visited it in 1738. It describes exactly how I felt when I saw it.<br />
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<i>I had been told to go and see the Pont du Gard; I did not fail to do so. It was the first work of the Romans that I had seen. I expected to see a monument worthy of the hands which had constructed it. This time the object surpassed my expectation, for the only time in my life. Only the Romans could have produced such an effect. The sight of this simple and noble work struck me all the more since it is in the middle of a wilderness where silence and solitude render the object more striking and the admiration more lively; for this so-called bridge was only an aqueduct. One asks oneself what force has transported these enormous stones so far from any quarry, and what brought together the arms of so many thousands of men in a place where none of them live. I wandered about the three storeys of this superb edifice although my respect for it almost kept me from daring to trample it underfoot. The echo of my footsteps under these immense vaults made me imagine that I heard the strong voices of those who had built them. I felt myself lost like an insect in that immensity. While making myself small, I felt an indefinable something that raised up my soul, and I said to myself with a sigh, "Why was I not born a Roman!" </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Pont du Gard aqueduct, Vers-Pont-du-Gard, France</td></tr>
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I love impressionist art and two of my favorite painters are Van Gogh and Monet. I've seen several canvases over the years and we were lucky enough to be in Arles when many of Van Gogh's Provence paintings were on loan from Amsterdam. What I like about Van Gogh, and this group of paintings in particular, is that he paints with a passion and fervor that matches my own love of the subject matter. When I saw one of his iris paintings I burst into tears.<br />
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One of our stops on the tour was Saint-Paul Asylum, Saint-Rémy. Every single step was into a painting. To see the gardens, the orchards, the asylum, the surrounding landscape in person, with the vision of a painting inspired by it made me a little dizzy. I tried to channel him as much as possible to take photographs of the same subject matter. When we walked past the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olive_Trees_(Van_Gogh_series)" target="_blank">olive orchard</a> and it's dancing trees, I felt the now familiar bubble of emotion rise into my throat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPnwV1mMon4wnH2MjG5Si1m1c_lEZyESo8IP8-UnxBPL27cxLOwfHb6HwklmIOT2gT6owVpPQV0YJycvWXxn5uepiIwVH_u_joyapX3xaOZWdwZZAaZPgmKqgS2SoCBr2ze63TZODOqY/s1600/IMG_3058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPnwV1mMon4wnH2MjG5Si1m1c_lEZyESo8IP8-UnxBPL27cxLOwfHb6HwklmIOT2gT6owVpPQV0YJycvWXxn5uepiIwVH_u_joyapX3xaOZWdwZZAaZPgmKqgS2SoCBr2ze63TZODOqY/s640/IMG_3058.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Olive orchard, <span style="text-align: start;">Saint-Paul Asylum, Saint-Rémy, France</span></span></td></tr>
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The last leg of our trip was to Paris and I made the pilgrimage to Giverny to see Monet's garden. It was a complete revelation. Monet's genius was painting the light, not the subject matter. When I stepped into his garden I recognized that same genius in the landscaping. Every element was oriented to capture the best light no matter what time of day. Gone were the formal structures I had been seeing on my trip and instead, it was a riot of plants jammed into spaces so that he could paint them. Long stretches of planting beds dotted with interesting trees and shrubs were framed by green hedges that forced you to concentrate on small elements. Again I tried to channel the artist and took photographs of the light. Every single photo was a masterpiece by this amateur photographer. Next time I will stay all day instead of the three hours we were allowed on the tour.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdf4iIsMNKZgT2meR564cIOEH7ktrfS6odOGitsMxpgjfkl9ULTMyee_n-UvaWVv_SBAAHOiOAsOQzXVxlpH9PHuLWDP8Iy6oBMKMuDB_XRFNhwl-9UBcNyywT2MyA5Y3YcV_xdzYpHM/s1600/IMG_3355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdf4iIsMNKZgT2meR564cIOEH7ktrfS6odOGitsMxpgjfkl9ULTMyee_n-UvaWVv_SBAAHOiOAsOQzXVxlpH9PHuLWDP8Iy6oBMKMuDB_XRFNhwl-9UBcNyywT2MyA5Y3YcV_xdzYpHM/s640/IMG_3355.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water lily pond, Monet's garden, Giverny, France</td></tr>
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Paris is one of my bucket list cities and I regret that we only had three days. We tried to cram in the big sites and go to the Louvre, but it simply wasn't enough. The Parisians were all very nice to us as well as helpful - we couldn't have asked for a more welcoming experience.</div>
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Notre Dame rises above the Seine in all it's gothic glory, but it's the inside of the building that you must experience. We saw so many churches, all of them holy places, some built with more love than others, some more intimidating and authoritarian. Notre Dame, despite the crush of tourists, was a sanctuary to me. It made me feel like it stretched it's arms and held me close in a loving embrace. I could almost hear the heartbeat of the stained-glass windows, the statuary, the altars, and those magnificent arches. When I rounded a corner to this altar, it was hard not to just fall to my knees. I lit a candle instead.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveBzLCt27YyRTZBmXUYAlI3KP9_r1Mm1HWZAwdYAvsdgw4HzdMHH_xts76ssMPYrWt9QjfdoMlbnUQGjqYkEKnQh-onvbe5tgAunfqPLJM-VxRMVlHBP4tkptMURtWzkjnFJA3Ukv2tY/s1600/IMG_3152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveBzLCt27YyRTZBmXUYAlI3KP9_r1Mm1HWZAwdYAvsdgw4HzdMHH_xts76ssMPYrWt9QjfdoMlbnUQGjqYkEKnQh-onvbe5tgAunfqPLJM-VxRMVlHBP4tkptMURtWzkjnFJA3Ukv2tY/s640/IMG_3152.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, France</td></tr>
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We had a memorable meal near the Grand Palais Garnier and the ceiling seemed to fit in with everything else I'd experienced on my trip. Sipping wine, eating decadent food and the good company we were with culminated with the beauty of this ceiling at <a href="http://uk.legrandcafe.com/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">Le Grand Cafe Capucines</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxVKOCw0WTuCT2hbLM7PLroo-oskoGzXuif5OJXy4zZxnNjbqGGdtBU2uO6_uqABiNRN3C5-JJztlEAUW-o2IomlTgu5PaPWJGlxB4VofcHDsaTEP4Ghf8LdVh9LlPnuyMkj9XZsvVCI/s1600/IMG_1778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxVKOCw0WTuCT2hbLM7PLroo-oskoGzXuif5OJXy4zZxnNjbqGGdtBU2uO6_uqABiNRN3C5-JJztlEAUW-o2IomlTgu5PaPWJGlxB4VofcHDsaTEP4Ghf8LdVh9LlPnuyMkj9XZsvVCI/s640/IMG_1778.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris, France</td></tr>
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Back in the real world, one of my oldest friends lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. A tree near the house had to be taken down earlier in the year and since it was close to Easter, he decided to carve a cross with his chainsaw. The wheel reminds me that Darrell was from a pioneer family. A fitting tribute for someone who was taken way too soon. And I mean taken.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaf72sCIMM9T3WLo4fxClpCc4-piOX1Hd6i_nUAs8voyGS7HIze8_UCASvC_ap7GkwmB7YmYCB84qbpLiS8IHzw2jZMXVoNLTO69FLPZ9gopWBc_ypeAJyMyjHeXvDEBtVizxuh54Ra4/s1600/IMG_1577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaf72sCIMM9T3WLo4fxClpCc4-piOX1Hd6i_nUAs8voyGS7HIze8_UCASvC_ap7GkwmB7YmYCB84qbpLiS8IHzw2jZMXVoNLTO69FLPZ9gopWBc_ypeAJyMyjHeXvDEBtVizxuh54Ra4/s640/IMG_1577.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phoenix, Oregon</td></tr>
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The underside of this blue palm frond caught my attention when visiting <a href="http://www.peckerwoodgarden.org/" target="_blank">Peckerwood Gardens</a> in Hempstead, Texas. The garden was named after the plantation in Auntie Mame and for the woodpeckers that frequent the property. Despite the blush, it's a showcase of native and adapted plants from Mexico, Texas, Asia, and Florida.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92AnZtlQLxALNpohv-z4s67qYjsnL1ZEYvXOtHT5FpgGwkjoR20H7Ofhspb9LUZqfHyWflAZV_p-6NBh3pOlunA3H-JxJikWq-rEvf2Re0QYQfKohSV8oqPam88GAkH1QghbnvPSXXGY/s1600/IMG_3447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92AnZtlQLxALNpohv-z4s67qYjsnL1ZEYvXOtHT5FpgGwkjoR20H7Ofhspb9LUZqfHyWflAZV_p-6NBh3pOlunA3H-JxJikWq-rEvf2Re0QYQfKohSV8oqPam88GAkH1QghbnvPSXXGY/s640/IMG_3447.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Palm, Peckerwood Gardens, Hempstead, Texas</td></tr>
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And finally, back to Paris. We were on the <a href="http://www.batobus.com/" target="_blank">Batobus</a> headed for the Louvre when we passed under this bridge. The whimsical figures silhouetted amongst the passersby captured how I felt at the moment, and I still laugh every time I see this photo.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGB57gBc-kJ9wmNiH0awbsbUMIKClho_U0kNpRMiyW08_1iOtvGrodpKOnhIcGda2EzzIZd7-p8OB96ZLjquJQbp6X1G_c5vcWIK0Sbt4gXEkfyygpl1QHCZFj6A1ZWOovxeHW8yUVPj4/s1600/IMG_3206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGB57gBc-kJ9wmNiH0awbsbUMIKClho_U0kNpRMiyW08_1iOtvGrodpKOnhIcGda2EzzIZd7-p8OB96ZLjquJQbp6X1G_c5vcWIK0Sbt4gXEkfyygpl1QHCZFj6A1ZWOovxeHW8yUVPj4/s640/IMG_3206.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris, France</td></tr>
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Thank you for indulging me and making it all the way to the end! I am looking forward to what this year will unveil and the introduction to new delights. I really am a very fortunate person and am grateful for all the moments that add up to a life. Thank you for being part of it.<br />
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Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-9693602738902455572016-12-25T11:35:00.000-08:002016-12-25T11:35:39.559-08:00Yeast of Eden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqHdcUPQfa_LdeIW8OIS0-Ts4Erx4FlCqnhVL43hkyaMlR6ps9XCzfQ3MGtSJUkMLQ7rVhoHA0IVMH9fRvAmz51-t7CexnE8SHV91bGYwoEY8KlZ1hNeVFOmdzS-4HR7CkyeDlM4G_WY/s1600/IMG_1838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqHdcUPQfa_LdeIW8OIS0-Ts4Erx4FlCqnhVL43hkyaMlR6ps9XCzfQ3MGtSJUkMLQ7rVhoHA0IVMH9fRvAmz51-t7CexnE8SHV91bGYwoEY8KlZ1hNeVFOmdzS-4HR7CkyeDlM4G_WY/s320/IMG_1838.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Whenever I see programs or read books about getting back to nature, going back in time, or giving it all up to run a goat farm, the prevailing image is people kneading bread.<br />
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What is it about bread making that seems so ancient, so authentic, so nostalgic? It's just bread and it's not like you can live on bread and water alone. Why don't other forms of food preparation seem as romantic? I mean, no one tears up wistfully watching someone make a pot of soup, even though it's packed with a lot more flavor and nutrients. The closest thing we have is making spaghetti sauce and tasting it from a big wooden spoon. <i>Ah, the good old days</i>, we think, before sauce came from a jar.<br />
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I'm just as bad. When I think of living off the grid I imagine all the bread I'll bake in my wood burning oven. After all I'd need the carbs to live that kind of life. But our not so distant ancestors didn't survive on grain alone, in fact it was more about fat than anything else. Gathering nuts, rendering lard, making soap, cooking in grease, cooking over a sizzling spit, and making thick gravies is way more primeval and true to surviving away from modern civilization (although if you watch presidential politics you have to wonder whether we've evolved at all into a civilization.)<br />
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So what is it that drove me, other than Michael Pollan, to think that baking bread would soothe my troubled soul. I think maybe it's the process - the mixing, the kneading, the rising, the baking - that inspires. It's alchemy of the highest form, this metamorphosis of grass seed into fluffy loaf, all controlled by our own actions. There's no curtain to hide behind, no wires, no distracting puffs of smoke (well, hopefully,) just some hard work, a little yeast, and an oven. <br />
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True to form I am not satisfied with making bread the "normal" way with those little packets of yeast. purchased at the grocer. I am determined to capture yeast out of thin air and force it to do my bidding inside a mass of dough. How hard could it be?<br />
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And, once agin, my arrogance punishes me for thinking I can have any sort of control over the natural process. I should know better. I am, after all, the compost-making queen, and have had more than my share of failures with sauerkraut and that unfortunate incident when I tried to can fish. Thankfully nothing has ever exploded like the beer bomb that erupted in my neighbors house. Microbes are the true secret to the universe and they cannot be willed into order. Like everything else in the natural world, they can only be coaxed.<br />
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So these past weeks I have coaxed, pleaded, thought of cheating as I baked brick after brick of bread. My dear friend Carrie took pity on me and shared some of her starter, convinced that her South Austin rascally yeast would do the trick. It didn't. What was I doing wrong? I followed the directions to the letter every time.<br />
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And so the lesson begins. It's not about directions. It's not about procedure. My grandma used to keep all her flour in a big drawer in the kitchen cabinet. I still get goosebumps remembering her pulling that drawer open, cracking eggs and pouring buttermilk into the well she made. She'd mix it right there in the drawer and then remove it to a bowl or the counter where she would finish it up. Talk about alchemy, and mastery, and oh my goodness those cinnamon rolls!<br />
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It has to feel right. The sensation of the elastic bands of dough right against our skin. The smoothness, the way it collapses right into your palm and then springs back after every touch. The patience to let things happen without stirring, rushing along, or just throwing it in the oven to just get it over with. It's the same with making compost, preparing a seed bed, or determining if fruit is ripe.<br />
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I post the photo of my success to Facebook so everyone I've been complaining to can see that I have finally done it. I sit here now and reflect on the newest loaf that is quietly baking in the oven. There is no such thing as control, no such thing as a standard practice or procedure, there is no order. There is just that precise moment in time where all the ingredients mix in a flour drawer and emerge later as a bit of air between flour particles. It's the beginning and the end and it poises of the edge of forever. So do I stay here? Or do I do something that throws me out of the moment so that I can recreate it time and time again? I'll take my chances.Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-84387921087386948102016-11-26T15:45:00.000-08:002016-11-30T16:54:35.426-08:00I Can Take It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pont du Gard near Avignon</td></tr>
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My Dad passed away recently and it has really knocked the air out of me. He suffered from cancer so his escape from all that pain was a gift - but he fought it hard. Fought, fought, fought and lived almost three years longer than the Doctors told him. He never accepted his fate, and although he was a realist, there was always the little thought that he would beat it. What was my Dad made of to charge into it so bravely? Or was it just fear that kept him going?<br />
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Earlier this year I traveled to Europe and spent quite a bit of time in Italy and the south of France. We began our trip in Rome, made our way up Italy and then back down to cross into France at Menton, staying for a few days in Avignon and Arles (among other places.) As an avid history buff, it became apparent to me that we were following the Romans and their conquest of Gaul.<br />
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And not just the Romans, all kinds of castles and battlements dotted the landscape during our entire journey. It was breathtaking.<br />
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And then something slammed into me in Arles.<br />
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Arles was a Roman fortified city. What is very interesting is that the Romans just lifted and copied a basic blueprint to every place they settled. Always a forum, a colosseum, a theater, and a huge wall. Unlike the city of Rome, Arles' colosseum is completely intact and still functions as an entertainment venue.<br />
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The architecture is impressive, and, as our guide pointed out, the technology behind it no longer exists. Modern engineers, concerned with public safety, have tried to "fix" areas that are sagging. Others are busy restoring ruins back to their broken, but original, state. Attempts to replicate the Roman engineering have failed and they have had to fall back on modern iron clamping systems.<br />
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The locals didn't love the Romans, but when Rome fell and they started to pull out of the provenances in the 5th century, what came after was much worse. The populace of Arles moved their homes into the colosseum, fortified the walls and built four towers to fire on the marauders. The village remained there until the late 18th century. By that time the buildings built on top of buildings completely obscured everything but the outer wall. It was this pile of humans that ultimately preserved the site by building on top of, instead of dismantling, this structure with the lovely square blocks.<br />
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I stood outside of that wall with my heart pounding. Can you imagine what it was like for those people who grouped inside for protection? What kind of world was it where everything completely fell apart and evil rampaged through the countryside? The Romans were the height of civilization yet what came after was worse than what the Romans were at the beginning of their empire building. Why would people do that? Why wouldn't they be glad to be rid of the soldiers, band together, and keep going? Arles was a very important cultural center, why did the people destroy that?
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I only have to look at our recent Presidential election to know the answer. Humans destroy what they can't have and go on the rampage against anyone they think has a better life. It's much easier to vent and rage instead of discuss and build. The villagers of Arles knew this and protected themselves for almost two thousand years.<br />
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Two thousand years! What does that do to a community? To each descendent? To live in that kind of fear all that time. How do you move forward, hope for your children, build any kind of life when all around you the world has gone to hell?<br />
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I became so overwhelmed and completely humbled by their struggle.<br />
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All my life I have had a sense of place, an anchor, that defines who I am. I grew up on the family homestead - people who came across a sea of grass, over a mountain, and through a desert to start from nothing except their own ingenuity. My grandmother was a second generation French immigrant whose grandfather boarded a ship to travel into the unknown, hoping for a better life. She and my grandfather's family lived just like the characters in "The Grapes of Wrath" when they had to abandon their farm in Arkansas and head to California to be migrant workers during the depression. I am so proud of all of them.<br />
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In Arles, the realization crept over my skin like thousands of prickling needles and the breath left my body. Yes, my immediate family were tough, but they were descended from people like the citizens from Arles.<br />
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THESE WERE MY PEOPLE.<br />
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They are the reason the subsequent generations fought, and scrabbled, and refused to give up.<br />
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They kept their homes, their families, their culture alive believing that things would get better and took whatever baby steps were needed in that direction. They kept at it, no matter how long, or how many wars, or how many other evil empires were to be endured.<br />
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My dad. My grandfather. Both fought against the ultimate enemy - cancer. Never, ever, giving up. Always thinking about their family and even at the very end, trying to protect us from ugliness.<br />
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He-who-can-not-be-named Trump, your buddy Putin, middle eastern radicals, American-born gun-toting terrorists, KKK, neo-nazi's, Kim Jong despots, Texas Patrick-loving-Republicans and anyone else who tries to stamp out others for their own gain.<br />
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You have no idea who you are dealing with.<br />
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-28074122951715994582016-11-24T13:30:00.000-08:002016-11-24T13:30:52.315-08:00In a bit of a squeezeI can't believe that it's been seven years since I moved from Oregon to Austin, Texas. The time has vanished, and as I look out over my yard it feels like I just got started. Of course I haven't. The front and back lawn with just a few yuccas are gone. In their place is native plants, fruit and vegetables.<br />
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What an adventure that was to make the decision to move, pack everything up, then start over fresh in a state and climate that was totally foreign. I immediately dove into the nurseries, web sites, and local blogs that could teach me what to do. I was so excited that I could grow citrus in the ground, maybe avocados, miles of sweet potatoes, okra, black eyed peas, and a favorite flower - winecup, that hated the cool Oregon summers.<br />
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In this yard, I was determined more than ever to dedicate a larger percent of space to food production. Austin, I discovered, does not have much agriculture surrounding it. Most things at the grocer are trucked from California, Florida, or the Rio Grande valley. And the farmers market? Tiny! The first time I went I thought I went to the wrong place. Where was the two-block market that I was used to? Back in Oregon apparently.<br />
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But I have survived, thrived even, in this bit of earth being scorched by the death star. My friends here are some of the closest I've ever had, and I've had jobs and bosses that I absolutely love - all which have let me run full tilt into any challenge I wish.<br />
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However. I've had to give up some things (besides being able to sleep with the window open in the summer.) The hardest has been apples.<br />
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The combination of low chill hours and my stinginess with water has rendered the apples and pear completely barren. They won't even flower. I've cut two of them down and will probably take out the remaining two this winter. It's a shame because I've spent a lot of time training and pruning them, but I don't need ornamental trees, I want fruit! Most disappointing of all is that I don't have a crop of apples to make cider from.<br />
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A month before I lost my job in Oregon, I purchased a Correll cider press. They are absolutely top of the line and beautifully made by a gentlemen very near where I lived. My trees were poised to produce enough apples for me to press, plus there were a few abandoned trees in the fields near my home where I could glean even more. Undaunted, I packed that press and put it on the truck for Texas. I knew it would take 5 to 7 years before I produced my own apples again, but I could wait.<br />
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And then my apples didn't grow.<br />
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The press has been living on the deck and then later in the house ever since. It really is gorgeous and a conversation starter for people who've never seen one. However, it was never going to see an apple here in Austin. Reluctantly I put it on Craig's list.<br />
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Funny enough, no one here in the south is looking for a cider press. The apples are at least a thousand miles away and they'd be withered and juiceless by the time they arrived in Austin. I got only one inquiry and that was someone from Washington state.<br />
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Okay. Now what? Due to the mild winter, I've had a huge crop of fruit this year. Apples? Nope. Oranges and pomegranates. Wait for it - I can use my cider press!<br />
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So that's what I did. I hauled the press back onto the deck and on a warm afternoon I made orange juice. It was perfect. Unlike apples I had to peel the oranges. They are so fresh that the orange oil drips off them. I didn't want all that oil in the juice so took the time to relieve them of their rinds. For good measure I also threw in the pomegranates that were also ready.<br />
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And it worked! I got almost a gallon of juice and was able to marvel at how well the press worked. It's slanted perfectly, the press fits into the basket easily, and with not much effort the crank lowers the press onto the fruit. Beautiful juice streamed out of the basket and into the waiting receptacle. The remaining pulp was devoid of juice and went into the compost. Finally!<br />
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What's that saying? When life gives you lemons...??<br />
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I am happy to report that the press is back in the living room in it's place of honor, cleaned up and smelling slightly of oranges. The listing on craigslist has expired and I don't intend to repost. Now I'm scheming about juicing loquats and figs - with the resulting pulp being used in some sort of chutney or quick bread.<br />
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Hey! Keep your hands off my press! Get your own!<br />
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-65986808433408847592016-08-21T11:49:00.000-07:002016-08-21T11:49:56.949-07:00Counter Culture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The problem with me is that I have too many hobbies. I like to tell myself that I am a "Renaissance" woman, meaning that I am pretty good at a lot of things, but the truth is that I have the attention span of a gnat.<br />
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Being able to jump around and multi-task has served me well, but I'm not widely known for my patience. I'm okay with long term goals as long as there is some action along the way that keeps me interested.<br />
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I have friends who make their own wine and I've flirted with the idea of giving it a try. But winemaking is really boring. All that aging. Beer is a lot more fun and I actually had a kit at one time. But a neighbor's experience of having his batch blow up in the house always gave me pause. The chief reason being that I know I would get bored, walk away, and not monitor things as warranted.<br />
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But hope springs eternal and lately I've been hankering to get back into bread baking. It was brought on by watching Michael Pollan's "Cooked" series on Netflix. I love to cook and the "air" episode was all about making bread. One of the people profiled was <a href="http://berkshiremountainbakery.com/" target="_blank">Richard Bourdon</a>, a baker from Massachusettes and a proponent of making bread via fermentation versus regular yeast+flour methods. He made a good argument about digestibility and the current gluten intolerance wave everyone is talking about. He believes there wouldn't be any intolerance if we ate some form of fermented bread like sourdough.<br />
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This argument has of course generated controversy amongst the celiac crowd and other people who believe they are experts in nutrition. I have no way to refute or endorse any of it because I am completely uneducated on the subject. However, I do have my own gut. In my twenties I was besieged with digestive issues, ranging from a pre-ulcer to what was finally coined "irritable bowel syndrome" by one of the many doctors I went through for help. Unfortunately, I learned that IBS is a catch-all for undiagnosed intestinal issues. But, once I had the term I researched possible causes and ran across gluten intolerance. I stopped eating bread and voila! Issue gone. Since then I've begun taking probiotics and I can eat small portions of bread without incident. <br />
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Am I gluten intolerant? I have no idea. I don't seem impacted by gluten as an additive in many of the foods I eat (including commercially produced ice cream) so it could very well be another ingredient that sets me off. Give me a piece of toast and within 15 minutes I have a painful acid stomach, give me cake for dessert and I get an IBS attack unless I pop a probiotic at the same time. I'm always suspicious of claims about carbs, gluten, vitamins, etc. because like most things they seem like fads and the "experts" are just in it to promote a book (or get a series on Netflix.) I'm a Michael Pollan fan because the boy can write beautifully, and he, like me, approaches things based upon curiosity and discovery. I forgive him from profiting from it.<br />
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So I'm doing my own sourdough starter. Is sourdough a cure for me? Absolutely not and certainly not more than the organic apple cider vinegar with the Mother, greek yogurt, and sauerkraut that I eat. Any sourdough loaves I've eaten in the past gave me the same reaction as any other bread, which makes me sad because I love a good sourdough cannon ball filled with hot soup. But the program got me curious. What if I grew my OWN sourdough starter from the environment that I live and grow food in. Will I be able to tolerate it? And really, sourdough is the same process as composting and sauerkraut, two other things I like to do. Plus I like the idea of it. Being able to bring food to the table that I grew and prepared gives me a huge dose of satisfaction. If you've eaten at my house, it's because I hold you in high esteem and serve you with an ardor that not even Shakespeare could not describe. Ok, that's a little over the top, but you get the idea.<br />
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I googled some recipes and read about sourdough baking. (What did we do before the internet? Oh, yeah, I'd ask my grandma - the source of all home cooking knowledge and whose culinary magic I still aspire to.) The real pinnacle of using sourdough is to not use yeast at all when you prepare loaves for baking. If you do a good job with your starter, those loaves should rise, and while it may not be as fluffy, it's not the equivalent of a manhole cover either.<br />
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The premise behind sourdough is that you are harvesting "wild" yeast in the flour and from the air. Lord knows the heavy air here in Austin carries all sorts of things, but I've never heard of an artisan sourdough baker coming out of Texas. And as a resident of the west coast you are raised with the mantra that San Francisco is the capital of sourdough because of their wild yeast. (I know a good marketing campaign when I hear it.) Still, it's so totally Texan to harvest something wild, domesticate it, then exploit the heck out of it. Yee haw!<br />
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The basis of my starter is the one from <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/sourdough-starter-recipe" target="_blank">King Arthur Flour</a>. They have a really nice step by step guide with some photos of what the starter should look like throughout the process. In general, you should be able to grow a batch of starter in about a week. I went through the FAQ's and questions from bakers and then stumbled upon my achilles heel. "<i>You must be patient.</i>"<br />
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Yeah, right. And true to form I've been goosing my starter. It started out okay and got to bubbling - I even got a full rise on day 4, but since then it has not progressed fast enough. So I got to thinking about the environment and what I could do to hurry things along. I do the same thing to my compost - and is why I collect and add coffee grounds and grass clippings. Cook damn you, cook! For my sourdough I've been adding more whole wheat flour in order to get the yeast population up. It seems to be working because I'm getting a little more action. With the recent rains we've had came another idea - I'll use rainwater! It's stormed enough to wash out most of the pollution and the resulting water should be teaming with yeasty Texas microbes. Another ultimate compliment - if you get rainwater at my house, that means you're important. Otherwise you have to suffer with the alkaline, chloramined municipal water. I filter the water in the house, but it's only my vegetable garden that gets rainwater in the yard. That's right, not even the roses and they complain constantly with their yellowish foliage. <i>Oh, go eat some seaweed and here's a little chelated iron</i>.<br />
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Interestingly enough, fermentation does not occur faster if you watch it. I caught myself checking on it throughout the day on Saturday with more attention than I was paying to the homemade spaghetti sauce that I was making at the same time. The sauce got a little scorched but what a joy to see the gas bubbles pop in the starter. I think I'm on to something and I am hoping that I will have mature starter in the next week or so.<br />
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Stay tuned to see if I can discover some hidden vault of patience, make bread without yeast, and consume it without bloating up like a dead whale.<br />
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But my attention wanders and now I'm off to do something else. Squirrel!Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-28236749197170659352016-08-12T02:21:00.000-07:002016-08-12T02:58:28.961-07:00Dreaming of Hidcote in the South of France<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbLn1yj4yJwZu4BFJVlZSTja6wYjRGjmV1LdfyKoL97AXSRoBXOmwWbxBSERuzIV7xbI0ZRCsJq8arnu0VE-3K6qZUBJhvDJnjJ6pQCABfLYtwj11uX4B81BCepmriQOY_5TpW2EnckE/s1600/IMG_2478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbLn1yj4yJwZu4BFJVlZSTja6wYjRGjmV1LdfyKoL97AXSRoBXOmwWbxBSERuzIV7xbI0ZRCsJq8arnu0VE-3K6qZUBJhvDJnjJ6pQCABfLYtwj11uX4B81BCepmriQOY_5TpW2EnckE/s200/IMG_2478.JPG" width="150" /></a>
While on my recent trip to France we had the opportunity to visit Jardin Serre de la Madone in Menton. <br />
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The garden was created in 1924-1939 by Lawrence Johnston, the same gentlemen who created Hidcote Manor Garden in 1907. Mr. Johnston "retired" and created the Jardin Serre de la Madone on his own property in the Gorbio Valley.<br />
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The garden occupies a former terraced hillside Olive grove and farmhouse that Johnston remodeled. One of the reasons he selected the site is that it offered a subtropical microclimate for his plant collection. Over the years he expanded the garden all the way down the hillside. After his death the garden fell into disrepair. In 1999 the property was purchased by the non-profit Conservatoire du Littoral, who began restoring it to Johnson's design.<br />
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<tr><td>I've never been to Hidcote but have seen it in photos. What was cool about Serre de la Madone is that this is the garden he puttered around in after his retirement. You can see elements of Hidcote, like the hedges and water features, but it has its own personality.</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBD3WKwo_4FgaoSbZ327pLsSfOG2Q6zaCHA3vqq6LpL3l9MawP-lNv5siXiz6ofFMLmsMiz0fDUqtwPKD-eV-nbHgeGoA-FN2Vvio4Hd6DUsWLQBw_Lj95ZB5yM9K5k-9x_nBwsvAwy4/s1600/IMG_2533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBD3WKwo_4FgaoSbZ327pLsSfOG2Q6zaCHA3vqq6LpL3l9MawP-lNv5siXiz6ofFMLmsMiz0fDUqtwPKD-eV-nbHgeGoA-FN2Vvio4Hd6DUsWLQBw_Lj95ZB5yM9K5k-9x_nBwsvAwy4/s200/IMG_2533.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixry0efXhDCPwB1yT4okLm_0wSagX0-04whXr_Ghp8U6g_cz8mhZIyVqT70pOmuXZf2S52uOvdLEZMPKU8cvVP8VgFJSvvypEGGM6SKlPN96aQojchqPyAEIzlWRns-Un3Qhywnfi5jVg/s1600/IMG_2497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixry0efXhDCPwB1yT4okLm_0wSagX0-04whXr_Ghp8U6g_cz8mhZIyVqT70pOmuXZf2S52uOvdLEZMPKU8cvVP8VgFJSvvypEGGM6SKlPN96aQojchqPyAEIzlWRns-Un3Qhywnfi5jVg/s200/IMG_2497.JPG" width="150" /></a>
</td>
<td>What was of particular interest to me (and the Conservatoire) is the way the garden is designed to retain rainwater. French and Italian farmers have mastered the art of terracing and storing water in the soil. Here it is taken literally to the next level. He created rainwater capture systems that store the water in the ponds and fountains all the way down the hillside. As a result, it requires zero supplemental irrigation.</td></tr>
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<td>The property has several structures on it, my favorite being the "cool" greenhouse. It's a stone structure perched on the terrace and served as a sort of lath house for some of the tropicals.</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHoajhDEHUkgRztKyKHIP4N7XY88Z9wpCzWVQAvwUoNt-LIzddLfy_4IH1UAFrHhrPLsMrruS9WVxhwNFCds9TYCWOnEowQiL1hVK8X9HPhqy9YsM-JEi3YjBj0zIo5KY0Uu5AjtG-Xg/s1600/IMG_2457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHoajhDEHUkgRztKyKHIP4N7XY88Z9wpCzWVQAvwUoNt-LIzddLfy_4IH1UAFrHhrPLsMrruS9WVxhwNFCds9TYCWOnEowQiL1hVK8X9HPhqy9YsM-JEi3YjBj0zIo5KY0Uu5AjtG-Xg/s200/IMG_2457.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6NdnBkwIiG02gZ3rUTOuHjZuaoZ1zdPGdZ-cpS-nM01O1uEb426gXZbfZsQPYXq88KXMWWLKWbBGtUl0usKKf0xPnwSC2W3C9YUJFWCKq6IFYZtB_dnMC2b1Ok1zUp5YXzOu-QNeTSg/s1600/Frame-30-05-2016-02-13-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6NdnBkwIiG02gZ3rUTOuHjZuaoZ1zdPGdZ-cpS-nM01O1uEb426gXZbfZsQPYXq88KXMWWLKWbBGtUl0usKKf0xPnwSC2W3C9YUJFWCKq6IFYZtB_dnMC2b1Ok1zUp5YXzOu-QNeTSg/s200/Frame-30-05-2016-02-13-20.jpg" width="148" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRZqkyRkiCBTaW82vr60yCr3FBsQrzSdWqHvNNZIJKrSsFdO_UY0i6uVzkd3KVQEd8sRTYU89b2LteS-K62wh_JEuoguJsebBPQaM0ulHarwJzT2GsP-ffIxDGz8xFiCHzL2b0lwUw4E/s1600/IMG_2486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRZqkyRkiCBTaW82vr60yCr3FBsQrzSdWqHvNNZIJKrSsFdO_UY0i6uVzkd3KVQEd8sRTYU89b2LteS-K62wh_JEuoguJsebBPQaM0ulHarwJzT2GsP-ffIxDGz8xFiCHzL2b0lwUw4E/s200/IMG_2486.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8rIwBhUfybAQg4mT2Y6NI9gvvLSwmyvgCpFPvInfGgAa5tCmaZMirLhijU78IcvFpbUyFu6-9FUPQsEhngpmscuH0my7Hf3bNocck1RFiiEmgEfkwReCcT_1FANZuPuAW5KkjWN2KTA/s1600/IMG_2485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8rIwBhUfybAQg4mT2Y6NI9gvvLSwmyvgCpFPvInfGgAa5tCmaZMirLhijU78IcvFpbUyFu6-9FUPQsEhngpmscuH0my7Hf3bNocck1RFiiEmgEfkwReCcT_1FANZuPuAW5KkjWN2KTA/s200/IMG_2485.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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It was fun to see Sotol in big pots flanking one of the many staircases. Big clumps of Bird of Paradise beckoned you to explore a fountain hidden in a leafy bower.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTbEmX1tDiAO1E2R2u1lZ9s2NKxVPy7KOnpjI-Kc08K2HYxdLfp-2_fEc4e5x5Gqk2u6W-CNHb9SGsv-b4UQ4NgPdpoARZ1bAR4BqSXM3AYR0RrJkLgYbmjH-dIQt1VYUVc-SiDTQ0Wo/s1600/IMG_2509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTbEmX1tDiAO1E2R2u1lZ9s2NKxVPy7KOnpjI-Kc08K2HYxdLfp-2_fEc4e5x5Gqk2u6W-CNHb9SGsv-b4UQ4NgPdpoARZ1bAR4BqSXM3AYR0RrJkLgYbmjH-dIQt1VYUVc-SiDTQ0Wo/s200/IMG_2509.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg774SaKykkR83Ax6NUlYO2z3hKYmiflGFmGup_gys9ncpDpcRQ-QAVjMMq3EhbSANroFMTRgtMzQlTJc4mPBdrj7u9bjLqFSoXiEObFt5N38H7hO_RR580ZNY9kLLEU-ezLBka69y1NrI/s1600/Frame-30-05-2016-02-38-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg774SaKykkR83Ax6NUlYO2z3hKYmiflGFmGup_gys9ncpDpcRQ-QAVjMMq3EhbSANroFMTRgtMzQlTJc4mPBdrj7u9bjLqFSoXiEObFt5N38H7hO_RR580ZNY9kLLEU-ezLBka69y1NrI/s200/Frame-30-05-2016-02-38-25.jpg" width="149" /></a><br />
The moorish garden once had an aviary in the courtyard. Now it's main feature is the mirror pond.<br />
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Another happy discovery was the Angel's Staircase and garden.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDCWHP-CYCEJKNcdNmoLlwUDOL7E-mdy5_9B5ZV2XULKSPNZXhdI41JQZdBMpzdC1wAsjQMfvg7oQqKtTPnlhvRlQKKBnsRFb4zHV35ATj9oEeG3zvRDkiHyRKne8ppi4t7Zw1ku3Tfs/s1600/IMG_2516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDCWHP-CYCEJKNcdNmoLlwUDOL7E-mdy5_9B5ZV2XULKSPNZXhdI41JQZdBMpzdC1wAsjQMfvg7oQqKtTPnlhvRlQKKBnsRFb4zHV35ATj9oEeG3zvRDkiHyRKne8ppi4t7Zw1ku3Tfs/s200/IMG_2516.JPG" width="150" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-BJhB0osEHoCT4-frMa1UUPhT9lySWjB6UcC_avpgBO5qHhl_xX1yebdQ_tJzU6WJq9kXt-jKkBroWlradny2s65InYodV5Xufj2SXtCRf3CLvDjzeI9r_o5yBHOJxAyGNr31wjph_0/s1600/IMG_2504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-BJhB0osEHoCT4-frMa1UUPhT9lySWjB6UcC_avpgBO5qHhl_xX1yebdQ_tJzU6WJq9kXt-jKkBroWlradny2s65InYodV5Xufj2SXtCRf3CLvDjzeI9r_o5yBHOJxAyGNr31wjph_0/s200/IMG_2504.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQ-9WIGCm5EkdHCJD5qCTE7e-TdeA4FFOAjldk45UXfjyQ5mrrxUWQwz6Nrr1l3rehkIOVVYeWmNY7DHECMm4BVPsO9qS1n9OfJxeTWWWAVqsQp8NFrT3mEhq42LO97Ty97CTwFg7gh8/s1600/IMG_2518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQ-9WIGCm5EkdHCJD5qCTE7e-TdeA4FFOAjldk45UXfjyQ5mrrxUWQwz6Nrr1l3rehkIOVVYeWmNY7DHECMm4BVPsO9qS1n9OfJxeTWWWAVqsQp8NFrT3mEhq42LO97Ty97CTwFg7gh8/s200/IMG_2518.JPG" width="200" /></a>
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This variegated Alstroemeria lit up one shady spot while tree leaves caught the sun in another.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqZeqJEPp0dpDYP23PCmKdRS8kntIE291-m3FioNELc1Qe5k8c5BkRPEuO4ky4F_3iDlaXNoHT9YmBPVTBySBh0vRMStl9bV0M7rPLW846vXwjvdOBlDPE4I15u0TMnqXyeCSrJIrxJU/s1600/IMG_2528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqZeqJEPp0dpDYP23PCmKdRS8kntIE291-m3FioNELc1Qe5k8c5BkRPEuO4ky4F_3iDlaXNoHT9YmBPVTBySBh0vRMStl9bV0M7rPLW846vXwjvdOBlDPE4I15u0TMnqXyeCSrJIrxJU/s200/IMG_2528.JPG" width="150" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tgD3pXDoeBGOc3Z4HNU7W9y8NVAZFZLFZzoQ3w-NNbQAknqn_X5k0NiyzEPGVowNbDBuRambFf8k9LXl1tzwEXKQPbkVZOjFU3BxyjdfxgOhyFrcR8-OWx_eN7Vp9r2J2GYKv-tBp60/s1600/IMG_2458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tgD3pXDoeBGOc3Z4HNU7W9y8NVAZFZLFZzoQ3w-NNbQAknqn_X5k0NiyzEPGVowNbDBuRambFf8k9LXl1tzwEXKQPbkVZOjFU3BxyjdfxgOhyFrcR8-OWx_eN7Vp9r2J2GYKv-tBp60/s200/IMG_2458.JPG" width="150" /></a> We were shown around the garden by the head of horticulture (so sorry that I didn't write down his name!) He gave us a history and pointed out some of the water conservation features. Of course being a group of gardeners he was peppered with "what's this plant?" Finally, clearly exacerbated, he proclaimed "Mon ami, we have over 6,000 plants, I can't possibly know them all!"<br />
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Fair enough. Left to wander on our own I captured photos of plants I found interesting. Every terrace revealed new structures, water features, both tiny and large discoveries.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7YSNC55cBevORaIlHfHQJOrlEBtyWxw33ZZWLucsqgNIiugF5Vv1OkJM5XE-bx4-yClOGQmhJGnVMcio67ieV83UPNyI4KobStKi-CfrvJL0saMgEB4XCpUbBeCXnc6hF3u_Q8DhRg0/s1600/IMG_2539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7YSNC55cBevORaIlHfHQJOrlEBtyWxw33ZZWLucsqgNIiugF5Vv1OkJM5XE-bx4-yClOGQmhJGnVMcio67ieV83UPNyI4KobStKi-CfrvJL0saMgEB4XCpUbBeCXnc6hF3u_Q8DhRg0/s200/IMG_2539.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Belvedere</td></tr>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7zwIkgh1pTV_d3f2IBJsnEjhNg60Xpa0egezUOYPUf0zGWd8oJjFgH52ygGB2yVXSzA-pB-dzGnVXXOPGfpBJrCt8QXnSrj4YPCcEwPPdLEecB4ifE6UbA677zYumc6cJ7PfBCc9fa8/s1600/IMG_2542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7zwIkgh1pTV_d3f2IBJsnEjhNg60Xpa0egezUOYPUf0zGWd8oJjFgH52ygGB2yVXSzA-pB-dzGnVXXOPGfpBJrCt8QXnSrj4YPCcEwPPdLEecB4ifE6UbA677zYumc6cJ7PfBCc9fa8/s200/IMG_2542.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Potato vine</td></tr>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWsY64O7C7GLiNwnzntbEPN3tFtTXyEUanf0TMowqxA8I8L0sBoDuxSCl1OmT0N7Je3iag__GyP7iwACEcxx8NoFiLhi9xGdX1OkX9MXQL-XJ4hRH-mSyNzPyvJ7PBWBoiqyZ31Cast0/s1600/IMG_2510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWsY64O7C7GLiNwnzntbEPN3tFtTXyEUanf0TMowqxA8I8L0sBoDuxSCl1OmT0N7Je3iag__GyP7iwACEcxx8NoFiLhi9xGdX1OkX9MXQL-XJ4hRH-mSyNzPyvJ7PBWBoiqyZ31Cast0/s200/IMG_2510.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eucalyptus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This garden was meant to be explored and I could have spent days there. I imagined Mr. Johnston tucking a plant here and a seating area there as he expanded the garden down the hillside. It was highly designed yet still rough and tumble enough to get lost on a wandering path. When I think of it now it's hard for me to call it a single garden since there were so many individual features - a theme common among plant collectors (and my own jungle.) This would be a place I'd love to work or volunteer at. Perhaps something for my retirement? Need to start learning French!!</div>
Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-9934448620046979382016-08-03T19:16:00.000-07:002016-08-03T19:16:22.072-07:00When getting hung out to dry is a good thing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK2iLsLPCWOYutYIMmus-s09NBbPqa8FkuC82YvMUT-H5vEc3A3Z5OxOIRVaCm7kW6kGzp8IOhuJTCgwvnmmDWaAqZzPlLrCmXFt1xn2rw-VGj0nye7OhiJUEYb-Z7J8Oo3EyoEx_KtXT/s1600/IMG_0495.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469416808105802498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK2iLsLPCWOYutYIMmus-s09NBbPqa8FkuC82YvMUT-H5vEc3A3Z5OxOIRVaCm7kW6kGzp8IOhuJTCgwvnmmDWaAqZzPlLrCmXFt1xn2rw-VGj0nye7OhiJUEYb-Z7J8Oo3EyoEx_KtXT/s320/IMG_0495.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="240" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
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I am still struggling with the calendar here in Austin. It's just now the first of August and I am exhausted from summer. I hide in the house away from the heat and try to find ways to console myself during this dormant season.<br />
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Lucky for me the winter seed catalogs have arrived and once again I am in search of garlic.<br />
<br />
Every year I plant three varieties to discover which will grow here during our droughty winters and hot springs. The only one that has been a reliable producer is Chinese Pink. It is ready to harvest in early to mid May as soon as it starts to get warm outside.<br />
<br />
The other varieties just can't take it. I've consulted with my Austin gardening communities and have even ordered from specialty nurseries that service gardeners in the south. No matter what I do they won't survive through June and I end up with very small harvests.<br />
<br />
I thought his year would be different. I purposely, and uncharacteristically, fertilized all three varieties every couple of weeks since last October and gave them more water than usual during the winter. It seemed to be working. I got really nice, vigorous tops and when I poked around the base the heads seemed to be forming like they should.<br />
<br />
I was planning on an extended vacation in May so was glad that the Chinese Pink were ready to harvest before I left. They did have slightly larger heads than usual from all the extra care, so I was sure I'd cracked it. While away for the next three weeks, it rained almost five inches spread over several days, so when I returned I was hoping to see some progress. <br />
<br />
The tops were all dead, which is okay because that usually signals that it's harvest time. I pulled them up and sighed. Skunked again.<br />
<br />
I really like to grow garlic because it is easy to store and I cook with it a lot. You can pull them up and throw them in a paper sack, bin, or even a burlap bag and they will keep for at least a few months. I try to grow three varieties so that I get a staggered harvest, thus extending the time I can use my own bulbs instead of buying more milder flavored varieties from the grocer. I started braiding mine after seeing some for sale at a home and garden show. I'm not the craftiest person in the world, but even I can pull off a semblance of a braid. Here is a website I found that takes you through the steps: <a href="http://www.bloomingfieldsfarm.com/garbrdhow.html">http://www.bloomingfieldsfarm.com/garbrdhow.html</a>.<br />
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Garlic tastes better after it's dried for a while. Sometimes when you just pull it out of the ground it can be a little green and bitter tasting. Drying evens out the flavor and intensifies the heat. I pull the garlic, trim the roots, then use a soft brush to get rid of the dirt. Sometimes I peel the outermost layer of skin just to clean them up a bit. I then braid them together and hang them someplace. I try to do the harvesting and braiding the same day while the stems are still pliable. A couple of times I have waited and it's hard to soak the stems enough so they don't break off while you are working with them.<br />
<br />
The thing I like about these braids is that you can hang them just about anywhere. I have a great covered deck at my house so I've hung the harvest just outside of the door. I snip the lower heads off when I need them.<br />
<br />
I am too greedy to use my stash for replanting knowing that I'll run out in January, so I've got to solve this production problem. With the amount of moisture and mild temperatures this spring, I think my theory about the heat has proven to be untrue. Perhaps it's the heavy clay soil? Or maybe the issue is that the soil itself heats up too much? My raised beds do get quite toasty.<br />
<br />
I look through the catalogs and plot a new strategy. Maybe if if used a higher compost-to-soil ratio the ground would be more friable, airy, and not prone to heating up. I'm not ready to admit defeat and just plant Chinese Pink - especially when these other varieties promise to produce in the South.<br />
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<td>Meanwhile, I've brought in a batch that I couldn't braid and am storing it in the kitchen inside a pair of pantyhose. Since I no longer wear nylon stockings due to a career and climate change (out of banking and into the heat), I've found them immensely useful in the garden. Great for tying things up or for stuffing with herbs and garlic to dry.<br />
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The house has taken on a bit more of an aroma on top of the usual garlicky cooking smell. Should keep the vampires and mosquitos away while being just below noxious for people less enthusiastic about the "stinking rose." I only hope people who look at my garlic stuffed hose and then back to me aren't eyeing my legs for cellulite. Ha!</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GgDzF79uyYOjBWTdl9Ge4iNzYPLszQs3qlhQa6pG3phNwF2tISPB_PfZmtLTcrl6aPQDsVIuNPlWPg7DIKti_vASMOxJXs3Lviz3CYCeSTWPmqxCl5kiWYP1nv8T6PEGLTvN52nU5Po/s1600/IMG_3411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GgDzF79uyYOjBWTdl9Ge4iNzYPLszQs3qlhQa6pG3phNwF2tISPB_PfZmtLTcrl6aPQDsVIuNPlWPg7DIKti_vASMOxJXs3Lviz3CYCeSTWPmqxCl5kiWYP1nv8T6PEGLTvN52nU5Po/s200/IMG_3411.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-60441424247800753592016-07-31T17:10:00.000-07:002016-07-31T18:56:50.790-07:00A Froth of Roses at the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild<table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstR9-rk-0Xg-iMnitgtJaYl6hc0BVhF6g13xLWxJ6kcvO_On09kJuVeIjBrcEaI0Lb96djTyYOQktoXlKwoNY-yzLfRaFFxImvoOOCrz0XlatpjB2xmMOnF6GvsydX-ZGBfNcldwMRWk/s1600/IMG_2671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstR9-rk-0Xg-iMnitgtJaYl6hc0BVhF6g13xLWxJ6kcvO_On09kJuVeIjBrcEaI0Lb96djTyYOQktoXlKwoNY-yzLfRaFFxImvoOOCrz0XlatpjB2xmMOnF6GvsydX-ZGBfNcldwMRWk/s200/IMG_2671.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<td>This year I had the good fortune (or should I say I SPENT a fortune) to go on a extended trip to Europe. It was my first time off of the North American continent, and I figured if I was going to go all that way, I was going to go big.</td></tr>
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I've been planning this trip for over a year, ever since receiving an email from <a href="http://www.earthboundexpeditions.com/" target="_blank">Earthbound Expeditions</a>, a travel company I've toured with before. This tour focused on gardens in Italy and France and was hosted by <a href="https://www.gardenamerica.com/store/home.php" target="_blank">Garden America</a>, a nationally syndicated radio show in San Diego, California. Just like last time, the tour was with a small group of like-minded gardeners who were just as excited as I was to tromp around Europe and ogle plants.<br />
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There were several big highlights for me, some "aha's", and moments of extreme revelation to the point of transcendence. I know that sounds really grandiose, but it's true. This trip changed me in ways I could have never predicted.<br />
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My husband and I did a leg in Italy prior to the tour, and then stayed on in Paris afterward. Recent events in the news have hit me harder than they would have prior to the trip. I was standing in the exact same place in Nice where that truck plowed through the crowd weeks later. My loss was not that it could have been me, but for the people of Nice that I met and the grief they are going through. It is entirely possible that the lovely woman who was selling herbs at the market that I chatted with for over a half an hour could have been a victim. We are all connected by these gossamer threads - there is no "us" or "them", just "we".<br />
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One of the things that I really appreciated about the organized tour is that it mixed formal estates and botanical gardens, plus a healthy dose of tourist activities in between.<br />
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<td><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm starting here, at the Villa Ephrussi De Rothschild, because it was so beautiful but also because we passed through Nice on the way there.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsxOuMxoOVAlp9BQVagPDRwRk7dQnXB3EfDMsUSTNRBIi-PcJpfsBqG_NFuAcFhSJ0KW6212zYa7Am0xNV1dipNKIPo1FuBBnDLJcI0jeGaUCRK6mK-NG70UcAJeQd2T3EequfFVK7pE/s1600/IMG_1416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsxOuMxoOVAlp9BQVagPDRwRk7dQnXB3EfDMsUSTNRBIi-PcJpfsBqG_NFuAcFhSJ0KW6212zYa7Am0xNV1dipNKIPo1FuBBnDLJcI0jeGaUCRK6mK-NG70UcAJeQd2T3EequfFVK7pE/s320/IMG_1416.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice</td></tr>
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A little background from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Ephrussi_de_Rothschild" target="_blank">wikipedia</a>: "The villa was designed by the French architect Aaron Messiah, and constructed between 1905 and 1912 by Baroness Béatrice de Rothschild (1864–1934) .<br />
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A member of the Rothschild banking family and the wife of the banker Baron Maurice de Ephrussi, Béatrice de Rothschild built her rose-colored villa on a promontory on the isthmus of Cap Ferrat overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The Baroness filled the mansion with antique furniture, Old Master paintings, sculptures, objets d'art, and assembled an extensive collection of rare porcelain. The gardens are classified by the French Ministry of Culture as one of the Notable Gardens of France.<br />
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On her death in 1934, the Baroness donated the property and its collections to the Académie des Beaux Arts division of the Institut de France and it is now open to the public."<br />
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<td>Pink was the Baroness's favorite color and it is repeated everywhere on the estate. Roses were her favorite flower and they were blooming profusely during our May visit. </td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgYs90N2aBN8GLVc6fGc_cAyJBvOyC13oLdfgfTDp4aG6tRtLpIifx-r8ou-l3kz7-trO1vUEqf2Qt9r6oPp-qu2QHER8md8FTzSZ5Qm1WOD-2l1_mqGDAMPPN6uVa5hHSPYj9eaxgM4/s1600/IMG_2676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgYs90N2aBN8GLVc6fGc_cAyJBvOyC13oLdfgfTDp4aG6tRtLpIifx-r8ou-l3kz7-trO1vUEqf2Qt9r6oPp-qu2QHER8md8FTzSZ5Qm1WOD-2l1_mqGDAMPPN6uVa5hHSPYj9eaxgM4/s200/IMG_2676.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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What struck me about this place was that someone who really loved plants designed it. The gardens were not just to show off, but to feature really interesting specimens - many from the New World and deemed quite exotic. To this Texan transplant it was quite amusing, because many of our native southwest agaves and cacti were prominently showcased.
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj812uCQghQzaJzTXKEfwKTOeNQdIJDGT8vLV56PGePUEnrmWgyYRB7EcmkCU-r4dRzLNiKaqzOzuj1_63mt70B5IPj-4eFUjVD-_oKobwfd3COx_FqgBjo-v-o__jscUCGtnceNV9IKV0/s1600/IMG_2593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj812uCQghQzaJzTXKEfwKTOeNQdIJDGT8vLV56PGePUEnrmWgyYRB7EcmkCU-r4dRzLNiKaqzOzuj1_63mt70B5IPj-4eFUjVD-_oKobwfd3COx_FqgBjo-v-o__jscUCGtnceNV9IKV0/s200/IMG_2593.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td>As you enter the nine gardens you are directed down the right, along the cliff and the vista of the Mediterranean Sea. Hundred year old Olive trees guide you along the path. The older trees were transplanted, so they could very well be much older.</td></tr>
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The hillsides at the foot of the Alps along the Cote d'Azur are terraced - and have been for over a thousand years. This practice enabled the inhabitants to farm on flat surfaces and also served to capture the rainwater. This garden is gracefully tucked into these terraces, so you first descend into a tiled and walled Spanish themed garden.<br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvewGel1nDvRNLx07YrdqaKRx6UXdfDLHYt2grI0L-17MhXSCHh1oDIhnYk5DUSpmyhCqAAGU94TfbSritleJ79-vq6bSW1BzsU8SyCiTuFydm0yQL958g4pu0dXQ-K3lprgAxExTG-tI/s1600/IMG_2594.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvewGel1nDvRNLx07YrdqaKRx6UXdfDLHYt2grI0L-17MhXSCHh1oDIhnYk5DUSpmyhCqAAGU94TfbSritleJ79-vq6bSW1BzsU8SyCiTuFydm0yQL958g4pu0dXQ-K3lprgAxExTG-tI/s200/IMG_2594.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2FNECqqlE42xZOP_KXwjT8lYNswk80JZkk2tI-b6g-qZBZ5kSZ9fcqOxX1U7n8kE86oMe7oq5qsocx1BQzY6rqu9FPHt3REI4nJl0NyO_b4NKREuRMysa-JsBUtgdhLG0ldeOIU7P-8/s1600/IMG_2599.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2FNECqqlE42xZOP_KXwjT8lYNswk80JZkk2tI-b6g-qZBZ5kSZ9fcqOxX1U7n8kE86oMe7oq5qsocx1BQzY6rqu9FPHt3REI4nJl0NyO_b4NKREuRMysa-JsBUtgdhLG0ldeOIU7P-8/s200/IMG_2599.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KqD-Bot6isPpWuPOM06P4XIUI17HGL8pyRHx_u2bavJggsRoIcIT9KUuhmtumTMDcFkDatqU4FVhsh_KalILFNYznNMOYgQB8RfHOsBIlGW_zSfRtBqS6Bw1YuZLr39N6l1x8X8Ko8U/s1600/IMG_2601.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KqD-Bot6isPpWuPOM06P4XIUI17HGL8pyRHx_u2bavJggsRoIcIT9KUuhmtumTMDcFkDatqU4FVhsh_KalILFNYznNMOYgQB8RfHOsBIlGW_zSfRtBqS6Bw1YuZLr39N6l1x8X8Ko8U/s200/IMG_2601.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e6d12HJuemPn4xb_Wr-FsQJWyN4mLSnZvo8BWT212UvDmoe9qSOpqbGFx_ggDlfwUaTZpFkiou84BQSTprC57GWb9SnG_H0GNn8f0V-FF8LZbBOYE7leibn4242_XKrKRh4PACE1RFU/s1600/IMG_2602.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e6d12HJuemPn4xb_Wr-FsQJWyN4mLSnZvo8BWT212UvDmoe9qSOpqbGFx_ggDlfwUaTZpFkiou84BQSTprC57GWb9SnG_H0GNn8f0V-FF8LZbBOYE7leibn4242_XKrKRh4PACE1RFU/s200/IMG_2602.JPG" width="200" /></a>
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The lushness of the plants muffles sound save for the musical tinkling of the fountain hidden in a grotto.<br />
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The Florentine garden is next. Once again you hug the edge of the property and pass by arbors until you arrive at another fountain. The brugmansia caught my eye here.<br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-kc1TUiEIPaqvAelC94QlB-IhwlYekVuFcsuebX2yiCyNtzMwRy-6b-C-6v2Q1glVuGavfvDOQ_aDRtQkwvS0YN6F3KlLz1eeQc2iiYrJtGQEsBlqh7QqKaj5qtm0Y74hhRCfCnmDaA/s1600/IMG_2605.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-kc1TUiEIPaqvAelC94QlB-IhwlYekVuFcsuebX2yiCyNtzMwRy-6b-C-6v2Q1glVuGavfvDOQ_aDRtQkwvS0YN6F3KlLz1eeQc2iiYrJtGQEsBlqh7QqKaj5qtm0Y74hhRCfCnmDaA/s200/IMG_2605.JPG" width="150" /></a>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jqSsIEK6-HaWaYvCz4r_lw0jEFVKCD-L02PuvZVDYOQSMPcSK84WFCF8JCaV-x_D5qU3IG4Vsc1DImuBqmstEGX_3PrRN5nqqMKW1b1lAfa8VeaSTun6liWEgzkJYebISDLz42SppUc/s1600/IMG_2608.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jqSsIEK6-HaWaYvCz4r_lw0jEFVKCD-L02PuvZVDYOQSMPcSK84WFCF8JCaV-x_D5qU3IG4Vsc1DImuBqmstEGX_3PrRN5nqqMKW1b1lAfa8VeaSTun6liWEgzkJYebISDLz42SppUc/s200/IMG_2608.JPG" width="150" /></a>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IqCtZ16hhWmm7vR4eF-KfgILcPC8S6rMcGvMz1G8YqUKlGewGRFIItGvzDQ7u8XGZw8XaKVcoqpXYRQknInYJl5fJhgGcKpf6q1uAaIvY2X3KoeUfDkr6wgmUTCED186btEawFYOBTg/s1600/IMG_2609.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IqCtZ16hhWmm7vR4eF-KfgILcPC8S6rMcGvMz1G8YqUKlGewGRFIItGvzDQ7u8XGZw8XaKVcoqpXYRQknInYJl5fJhgGcKpf6q1uAaIvY2X3KoeUfDkr6wgmUTCED186btEawFYOBTg/s200/IMG_2609.JPG" width="150" /></a>
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<td>So much to see that you dare not linger.</td>
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Up one terrace you come across the Stone Garden with it's pieces of leftover stone bits gathered from various sites. Another lesson in European "Recycling" as our guide in Rome explained to us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dmemnBgLfR3e0-Vv7jgAry_5UeWGIygqCR6ZsQqoaOZKrDmmaaCmJHoVJKFzy5UbGPtd0EhFMP6eqsstUTrbg759-NMQmFh14i7UcI7cVutDjaue70_hCNmw27eSSmN53XnEeVq75io/s1600/IMG_2615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dmemnBgLfR3e0-Vv7jgAry_5UeWGIygqCR6ZsQqoaOZKrDmmaaCmJHoVJKFzy5UbGPtd0EhFMP6eqsstUTrbg759-NMQmFh14i7UcI7cVutDjaue70_hCNmw27eSSmN53XnEeVq75io/s200/IMG_2615.JPG" width="200" /></a>
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It is followed by the Japanese garden with stone lanterns and requisite bamboo thicket.</div>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZEQFe8TkYqfgvOod_4X53-m8tos7KuGogatUSM24g-m644qmwVI9CtwXq8NLPECDt-_nAmbxEMas2SYiJlKDs5f0LCkrNGqvB5iJ5iPr5-b5gLFmWOJamXfR_5dwZgvX9YLJVj8OUOk/s1600/IMG_2621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZEQFe8TkYqfgvOod_4X53-m8tos7KuGogatUSM24g-m644qmwVI9CtwXq8NLPECDt-_nAmbxEMas2SYiJlKDs5f0LCkrNGqvB5iJ5iPr5-b5gLFmWOJamXfR_5dwZgvX9YLJVj8OUOk/s200/IMG_2621.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpwXQJi2kdjbiBdfw5HBkESBx1HpRiJQrmo0GbwpdRW5DOhwAU_BbFSSVXWXSMrJec8JwXha70uC6ZMyemqncBiT60iAdZo9OVDm1d1I5mu8j0ml6lzgKifCvOuYa2INdDUZGar5CM1k/s1600/IMG_2629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpwXQJi2kdjbiBdfw5HBkESBx1HpRiJQrmo0GbwpdRW5DOhwAU_BbFSSVXWXSMrJec8JwXha70uC6ZMyemqncBiT60iAdZo9OVDm1d1I5mu8j0ml6lzgKifCvOuYa2INdDUZGar5CM1k/s200/IMG_2629.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<tr><td>This banyon tree marked the end of that garden and offered a peek at the sea</td></tr>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMMZ1YZwuJQe9wrD4WCkfGz61tnUOM56YUCsj1zpa8GzvwzslqJzkYAKNcH5q3G-g956UjWu_a4NVoMT16lTP6UokXk0P0MYpQPDM5t8gorp7xPGWpUXGqQZ18sp0RkYQqIyXX2pShe0/s1600/IMG_2625.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMMZ1YZwuJQe9wrD4WCkfGz61tnUOM56YUCsj1zpa8GzvwzslqJzkYAKNcH5q3G-g956UjWu_a4NVoMT16lTP6UokXk0P0MYpQPDM5t8gorp7xPGWpUXGqQZ18sp0RkYQqIyXX2pShe0/s200/IMG_2625.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<td>Climb into the next terrace and I find myself at home. "Jardin Exotique" the sign said. My head interpreted this as "Welcome to Texas." Once again I see the Baroness' love of roses as this soft white froth is juxtaposed against the cacti. Eschewing the way we landscape with these plants - placing them as specimens surrounded by gravel or bare ground - and instead combining them as one would in an English style garden, was my "aha" moment here. Being a rose lover myself I related to this need to have those blossoms everywhere. In my garden I have them surrounded by perennials so that they peek above foliage. No more. This fall they are going to be moved and placed next to the agaves and yucca that are planted by themselves.</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n5VpOH1q2TxtbN8IhcfQ1UlbVSgARPbJ2fKI1Re7josYf6AnQwso-Io8Hit0MKmGT8vXFco9SerYJ0qEX6SdcJZd02G9RBeova5bTCmIrmlGtPSfwQKs9pmxgLS3wNKM-YOvLz7NzbQ/s1600/IMG_2586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n5VpOH1q2TxtbN8IhcfQ1UlbVSgARPbJ2fKI1Re7josYf6AnQwso-Io8Hit0MKmGT8vXFco9SerYJ0qEX6SdcJZd02G9RBeova5bTCmIrmlGtPSfwQKs9pmxgLS3wNKM-YOvLz7NzbQ/s200/IMG_2586.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizuBubIJ2kvnTGt-w8zNHM-iNi0ER65eaRFz0WK4LPMr9AqXDHVxaEiL7BL1doeBjnSVs55Cb-LfgqhG-vhFKTy_Ao-_Fz5MRJftYPTYhMocEBujBO42yDUxkA-Qp75jPf-ubN7MzokY/s1600/IMG_2644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizuBubIJ2kvnTGt-w8zNHM-iNi0ER65eaRFz0WK4LPMr9AqXDHVxaEiL7BL1doeBjnSVs55Cb-LfgqhG-vhFKTy_Ao-_Fz5MRJftYPTYhMocEBujBO42yDUxkA-Qp75jPf-ubN7MzokY/s200/IMG_2644.jpg" width="150" /></a></td>
<td>I have to tell you that at times I got a little disoriented.
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How could it even be possible that I'm looking at Agaves next to the Mediterranean?
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And here is something that I found hilarious. Due to the hot dry climate of the coastline, Agaves have escaped and become invasive species in France and Italy. HA! Payback for star thistle.</td>
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<td>Now you climb back onto another terrace and walk all the way through the garden. The beds are quite deep but the slope allows you to view edge to edge. Reminded me of walking the canyons back in Oregon.</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtKNrGJF5c1sIs68J8yL5qlI4kflCLzcl-hVT2F7sEFBbfO4adtTKyZD1EvYYm3wsEn9hrhHJSDJvGP0N0LxCcPlBstn4HHhg7Q-diE-qx9OLHRInyz1WoEKrntaMKiRVwcomsO_Oa5g/s1600/IMG_2631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: lem;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtKNrGJF5c1sIs68J8yL5qlI4kflCLzcl-hVT2F7sEFBbfO4adtTKyZD1EvYYm3wsEn9hrhHJSDJvGP0N0LxCcPlBstn4HHhg7Q-diE-qx9OLHRInyz1WoEKrntaMKiRVwcomsO_Oa5g/s200/IMG_2631.JPG" width="150" /></a>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYR8HpvDH0oFS57x4bGLv-Hr-WbckDXrvdhcrct6HYpdDlSsQStfo7A9md40BVCkZMfduKkRCFbnY-vB8KxxQWUAx2BFO4IBU3GDcWIoyw9gKS22NNari_63IwloDT_sdJ9tlWGPbF8w/s1600/IMG_1420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYR8HpvDH0oFS57x4bGLv-Hr-WbckDXrvdhcrct6HYpdDlSsQStfo7A9md40BVCkZMfduKkRCFbnY-vB8KxxQWUAx2BFO4IBU3GDcWIoyw9gKS22NNari_63IwloDT_sdJ9tlWGPbF8w/s200/IMG_1420.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td>A fun thing that I found myself doing was taking a picture of me with a Prickly Pear at each of the gardens. </td></tr>
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At last we come to the rose garden. However, compared to the layout of the gardens below it, it was a bit boring. Well, until you look at the roses.<br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZn12by6xlKu-XN_tc5S6ZhkA3a4eD29sMfnDjU5OiRJoBa4mWHLOML-3kt1Z6rxaOnq1D7srxuVJxcHnRT7PdpHe5zzrNnCle2_YWltIAQJK3NIJaxvNNFBp0UFz0IPkeM_TIVzOyWow/s1600/IMG_2639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZn12by6xlKu-XN_tc5S6ZhkA3a4eD29sMfnDjU5OiRJoBa4mWHLOML-3kt1Z6rxaOnq1D7srxuVJxcHnRT7PdpHe5zzrNnCle2_YWltIAQJK3NIJaxvNNFBp0UFz0IPkeM_TIVzOyWow/s200/IMG_2639.JPG" width="200" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1axlfNVhzFfSJrjrBYUBee4W9hcLGabarx0aab5yD5rFYOgQZXl4i3uxHQmsiYDtEZSMtSQthosYSLbIWrHcekU5iHueHuO7TbEHZ1EWd5IKadpdJHtHaT4c2YgVB2uUJeitLCRa0_s/s1600/IMG_2636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1axlfNVhzFfSJrjrBYUBee4W9hcLGabarx0aab5yD5rFYOgQZXl4i3uxHQmsiYDtEZSMtSQthosYSLbIWrHcekU5iHueHuO7TbEHZ1EWd5IKadpdJHtHaT4c2YgVB2uUJeitLCRa0_s/s200/IMG_2636.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4lSRhhcnq8NnH6_hZgyhxDI0trcOUBNleq_3IfTGOAsiQ8nuKUG1gHvKVTE4kPeENjlEv1pki_hOf79_lnoZgZ9soWqnUtHQoL33Dp68vZY1XP0Fw2ocFWaSOHP0eC3cStOXnZcwigM/s1600/IMG_2637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4lSRhhcnq8NnH6_hZgyhxDI0trcOUBNleq_3IfTGOAsiQ8nuKUG1gHvKVTE4kPeENjlEv1pki_hOf79_lnoZgZ9soWqnUtHQoL33Dp68vZY1XP0Fw2ocFWaSOHP0eC3cStOXnZcwigM/s200/IMG_2637.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td>This trellis was just one row of cattle panel staked to steel posts. Think I'm going to do something similar - if I can find the bolt cutters.</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7j-P-0exHw9Zfx34vhuWbnQjz0zppehGfrQH3X-BJqkGuRShTTPmoYpRb3YIpiPlYH75wsxbTFFeEbFzwQW4UFdNSx5XFSI-DbyoG6tGv8HW-4SofD_ULWLvNVSu_Iv8-QkCho3NwPI/s1600/IMG_2638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7j-P-0exHw9Zfx34vhuWbnQjz0zppehGfrQH3X-BJqkGuRShTTPmoYpRb3YIpiPlYH75wsxbTFFeEbFzwQW4UFdNSx5XFSI-DbyoG6tGv8HW-4SofD_ULWLvNVSu_Iv8-QkCho3NwPI/s200/IMG_2638.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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From there you go through the Provencal Garden and then head back down the hill to the main "French" garden. Here you see the classic symmetry and order that highlight the house.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIF2A5E5InuBq8CKQpTRdJ7Wz50Qt0Xa0bOurgmeWVFzlLdOJPOJFIWrWuRa4d46Y-R4D8vMhJQ8fB7xLk6JtAiPvzwdWBO-sTGngSOgi4qb2v6948f7qs4ANZnfB9dY5ckw-93S7MZE/s1600/IMG_2656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIF2A5E5InuBq8CKQpTRdJ7Wz50Qt0Xa0bOurgmeWVFzlLdOJPOJFIWrWuRa4d46Y-R4D8vMhJQ8fB7xLk6JtAiPvzwdWBO-sTGngSOgi4qb2v6948f7qs4ANZnfB9dY5ckw-93S7MZE/s320/IMG_2656.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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The pools all had fountain jets that were timed to the classical music playing through discreetly placed speakers. Eat your heart out Las Vegas.</div>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEhAMLvYzrPubcC_Wr673YSHVaaCGfvt44cN89oxyzSjR-bTxOzJQAfIIPQWdFLTmfGYh2ldEC9x0Ri0jop36jpbJ25K0A0miFStpXbszRybGHHu9EIM1TGtU2ZmC5je34Fwi6PWwJJE/s1600/IMG_2661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEhAMLvYzrPubcC_Wr673YSHVaaCGfvt44cN89oxyzSjR-bTxOzJQAfIIPQWdFLTmfGYh2ldEC9x0Ri0jop36jpbJ25K0A0miFStpXbszRybGHHu9EIM1TGtU2ZmC5je34Fwi6PWwJJE/s200/IMG_2661.JPG" width="200" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZccQJ8AQSfirswyN7RSOhy-lN_29a5_brofAkamYKwXPi7FyOnNyE8C5av9tn4yxUq4ryaUZSAzENWJPwqk323J6I0VnUF1bv11MRm-VkZsoW9QEuCfuyA_PbhyGnngyhCG1NxUZPsU/s1600/IMG_2662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZccQJ8AQSfirswyN7RSOhy-lN_29a5_brofAkamYKwXPi7FyOnNyE8C5av9tn4yxUq4ryaUZSAzENWJPwqk323J6I0VnUF1bv11MRm-VkZsoW9QEuCfuyA_PbhyGnngyhCG1NxUZPsU/s200/IMG_2662.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<td>The liveliness of the dancing fountains couldn't disturb the serenity of the lilies - who refused to be outshone by the frivolity around them.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgviv5OTtiJGYoZ24FGahFL33Z5lfLO5GwyDif28NcOn_FMi3_iWU4vAB9YY9qXCcVzca2hRx1zvzUjpD2wrfuaM47X3sjxOlG5Yb09Izn0nvOvSdfa1FTm2MnDV9yjntIM1VtdwJ5wDI/s1600/IMG_2664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgviv5OTtiJGYoZ24FGahFL33Z5lfLO5GwyDif28NcOn_FMi3_iWU4vAB9YY9qXCcVzca2hRx1zvzUjpD2wrfuaM47X3sjxOlG5Yb09Izn0nvOvSdfa1FTm2MnDV9yjntIM1VtdwJ5wDI/s320/IMG_2664.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The statuary throughout was really stunning - but hard for me to admire amongst the plethora of blossoms. Loved the Rothschild crest on this jar and the innocence of this statue on the terrace.
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKVvmAxSn448FHQDxWW-BS9Ri8UKGjn_SiI4Xqubg5TjcP60TxuI2aYKjUVO2EKwAcXLESQ2xESRyPHhu6P5eqz43kMjQL6s_Rg98AErPPIm_kiAxEQtWY_PupIga6pzIyX49YVNdOVk/s1600/IMG_2682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKVvmAxSn448FHQDxWW-BS9Ri8UKGjn_SiI4Xqubg5TjcP60TxuI2aYKjUVO2EKwAcXLESQ2xESRyPHhu6P5eqz43kMjQL6s_Rg98AErPPIm_kiAxEQtWY_PupIga6pzIyX49YVNdOVk/s200/IMG_2682.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXC4n3sUkIJQ_PnbDS3YIyMA4IB1b_RHCqlIj5NoigsmRjlXvalmhwS8AFHAyaSFWFlACA7dXiTtrLI-5BdlEMX7LpHmXZ7-NA4N67cqRiLPweahR0LrDGZj6B4xUAtAmrvjwhDLonO4/s1600/IMG_2688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXC4n3sUkIJQ_PnbDS3YIyMA4IB1b_RHCqlIj5NoigsmRjlXvalmhwS8AFHAyaSFWFlACA7dXiTtrLI-5BdlEMX7LpHmXZ7-NA4N67cqRiLPweahR0LrDGZj6B4xUAtAmrvjwhDLonO4/s200/IMG_2688.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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This place was so beautiful and we were there at peak bloom. So beautiful in fact I never once thought about how hard it would be to weed, never wondered about their pest control, and had zero interest in finding out their fertilizer schedule. Plus I didn't go into the house - even though you are supposed to view the garden from the upstairs windows. Very grateful that gardens like this are open to the public and that I got to visit and dream.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Afg4iI9Zf7wOm6LV3K5uYccTibodTKVi1AJ8osFm1HOQFNWDBRIY7DYROPXr9E_u81jrndm5EH0Oh3yVnDNxN2FtuUQiQdAg_K8H_AMkJfcjK6wM4CBJsGVDND9AL8dZPzvWNeQlXAc/s1600/IMG_2684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Afg4iI9Zf7wOm6LV3K5uYccTibodTKVi1AJ8osFm1HOQFNWDBRIY7DYROPXr9E_u81jrndm5EH0Oh3yVnDNxN2FtuUQiQdAg_K8H_AMkJfcjK6wM4CBJsGVDND9AL8dZPzvWNeQlXAc/s320/IMG_2684.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-7781965752413850032016-06-11T14:20:00.000-07:002016-06-11T15:16:38.043-07:00Soil: Build It or Buy It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am continually bowled over by how expensive soil is here in Texas. I’m from the Northwest and didn’t realize how much the wood mill and yard debris industries contribute to making cheap sources of compost. I’d have to get three more jobs to afford to buy enough topsoil to even get started on my gardening projects. But considering that I work full time as it is and barely have enough time to play in the dirt, clearly an alternative must be found.</div>
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The answer lies in the garbage: compost it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished compost ready to go to work in the vegetable beds.</td></tr>
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The average household creates an incredible amount of waste and most of it can be utilized to build your own soil. Once you start gardening you will also generate more yard debris. All you need is a composting container or bin and a good pitchfork and you can turn this stuff into black gold.<br />
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Compost bins can just be piles in a corner, wire enclosures, wood pallets attached together, a barrel, a stack of cinder blocks, or a bin. My favorite is a three-bin system that I first saw in Kent, Washington. The city was touting composting as a way to reduce waste and had the bin in their demonstration garden. It’s plans come with a lid to help keep rain off and critters out – something we didn’t add when we built the bin while living in Oregon and later here in Texas. <a href="http://www.uaex.edu/publications/pdf/fsa-6033.pdf">Here is a link to the plans that University of Arkansas publishes</a>.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband Ed Kimball filled with pride over new bin</td></tr>
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We keep a large, lidded, Rubbermaid container near the sink to hold all our vegetable food waste until filled and taken outside. The only animal products we include are eggshells. Meat and bones are fed to the dog or placed in the garbage. If you have a fire pit you can burn these, but be careful about the smell - burned bone can be unpleasant. The resulting ashes can be tossed into the compost. You can also use shredded paper. Just try to avoid glossy magazines and cellophane. Newspaper can be used also. Some people are uncomfortable using paper because of toxins that may be in the ink (most newspaper is printed with nontoxic soy ink - but check first.) I use the compost made from paper on ornamental plantings and not my vegetable beds just to be sure something didn't sneak in.<br />
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Once you get your compost pile built, it does take a little maintenance. Make sure that it doesn’t dry out by soaking it with the hose on occasion. You’ll also need to turn it in order to keep the oxygen flowing to the microbes breaking it down. I turn mine about once a week. You’ll see a lot of advice on how to layer your debris to make sure oxygen flows through the pile. If you plan on turning the pile, you can chuck the advice and just throw plant material in. </div>
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It’s amazing how fast your pile will break down. I can get finished compost anywhere between two weeks to a month, depending on what’s in there. The process starts on the left in bin #1 and then gets turned into the next bin until it reaches bin #3. Bin #3's contents get turned onto a screen that fits over my wheelbarrow. The finished compost that falls through goes out to the garden, the larger material that stays on top goes back into bin #1 to go through the process again.</div>
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It’s a little work, I’ll admit. But it’s a lot cheaper than buying it, that’s for sure. Plus I know exactly what’s in it and am not contributing to an overflowing landfill. A win-win! But be warned, it's very addictive. I've become a leaf and brush thief in the neighborhood to feed my habit. Hey, those paper bags of yard debris fit perfectly in my wheelbarrow. And I can stop at any time. Really.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-40067527710529135282016-06-09T17:09:00.000-07:002016-06-09T17:24:41.278-07:00Eat Your Lawn<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kDhGflOO72WPDzUz8-Mi6Blw_wjFrWqO-AwJ0XuMBsOBhZTQkqE5WwXOUqydFiu8tr-HKgqweSl-IPuO65HpE9EfphLkci04LIrU67rs_8TnZRsGkiuwGqZ963IAoPF7D44BQoI-c-E/s1600/IMG_1483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kDhGflOO72WPDzUz8-Mi6Blw_wjFrWqO-AwJ0XuMBsOBhZTQkqE5WwXOUqydFiu8tr-HKgqweSl-IPuO65HpE9EfphLkci04LIrU67rs_8TnZRsGkiuwGqZ963IAoPF7D44BQoI-c-E/s200/IMG_1483.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">My goal is to have an edible landscape. This means that a majority of plants have some sort of culinary purpose for me or for the beneficial wildlife I am trying to attract.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When you think of food production in terms of a landscape, it really opens your eyes to appreciate all qualities of the plants we grow to consume. You don’t need coleus or begonias when you can have an even more beautiful bed of Bright Lights Swiss Chard. Asparagus fern, why not just plain asparagus? Need something tall in the background? Grow corn. There are several varieties that have burgundy coloring in their leaves, stems, and silk that is just lovely. Forget about morning glories and plant Scarlet Runner Beans instead. They have the sweetest red flowers and the beans are delicious. Another favorite landscape plant of mine is Globe Artichoke. The plants grow into huge specimens with silver foliage. They are very dramatic and can yield a dozen or more tasty appetizers. I also love Fennel. The airy fronds dance in the wind and are a favorite snack for butterfly caterpillars.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I also expand my definition of an edible landscape to include wildlife I want to attract. I need birds in the yard to keep the bugs down, so I grow plants that will attract them. Amaranth (weed them into your salad), Echinacea, Cosmos, Barbados Cherry, Rose varieties that produce hips, Pigeon Berry, Lantana, and Chili Pequin all provide color and treats. Birds like low cover to hide in while they are scoping out the groceries, so I've included Bamboo Muhly and berry producing shrubbery like Agarita and Yaupon.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And what about that grassy lawn? Get rid of it. It is a total waste of water and human resources. Replace the blades with Thyme, Marjoram, Winter Savory, Peppermint or Oregano (or a blend of all of them.) They form a thick, green carpet that you can walk on. Heck, you can even mow them if you want (talk about a head rush though!) They stay low and don’t take nearly as much water to keep green. They also bloom and will attract bees and other pollinators to the garden. If you want more "real" grass, try a native Texas Sedge (Carex texensis), which is what I put in.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It takes courage to do this however, because your yard will not look like everyone else’s. Peer pressure can be hard to overcome and you can bet you’re efforts will generate plenty of comments. However, I’ve always found that including your neighbors in your plans and sharing the fruits of your labor go a long way to smooth the path. They’ll start to think you are a genius as you sit in your lawn chair amongst the fragrant herb lawn, sipping an ice tea watching them slog it out with the lawn mower. Wave to them and ask them to sit with you for a spell. You might just be able to find a second career as a landscape consultant.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--> Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-83454776399886218202016-04-03T10:05:00.001-07:002016-05-09T17:06:26.676-07:00Gullible But Still Hopeful<table>
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</td><td>I have a friend that breaks promises, says things to be nice that have no meaning, and is completely unreliable. Doesn't sound like much of a friend I bet you're thinking. But there are other reasons for my affection. Unfortunately I can be gullible to flowery words, something that can make me an easy mark, so I try to be careful and remember who I'm dealing with. </td></tr>
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Trying to grow fruit in Central Texas is exactly the same thing. I carefully prepare the planting area, dig the appropriate holes, add the correct amendments, prune, and do all the other horticultural practices. This time of year my efforts are rewarded with a whole garden of promises. The grapes, loquats, and oranges have all set fruit (unlike those traitors the apples, plum, and peach.)<br />
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I want to believe. <br />
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<td>I guess that's the very definition of gullible. My heart leaps with joy as I watch the loquat bend over with the fruit load - and then sinks when I see the mockingbirds swooping in for a snack. The little globes of happiness at the top of the tree seem to be ripening faster than the rest - but that's because they've been pecked and half-eaten. I climb the ladder to inspect the damage and see that it's not just the mockingbirds. The fruit also has tiny pin-prick holes and escaped frass - worms.</td>
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I harvested some of the riper ones this weekend and am now cooking them into pulp to freeze and use for smoothies. The next batch, if there is one, will go into a curried chutney. I've left the ladder out so I can pick fruit after work. Hope.<br />
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The citrus is also shouting at me. "Look at me! A whole BUNCH of fruit! It's going to be amazing! I promise". Like my friend, I know the intention is there, I don't doubt the sincerity, again, which is why I'm so gullible. Yes, I've been toyed with before - a full tree of fruit one day and the whole crop on the ground the next. "It was cold!" "The squirrels were after me!" "Penny knocked them off!" Always an excuse. Gullible, gullible, gullible.<br />
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I think the ones that really hurt are the grapes. Those tiny little clusters that promise to be juicy explosions in just a few months always seem to be attacked by thrips and marauding birds before they can be consumed by me. The intoxicating smell of ripening fruit I've enjoyed in prior gardens has been completely elusive here in Austin. But still, right now, I want to believe.<br />
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So why go to this trouble? Why risk the heartache and disappointment? Why not just go to the farmers market or HEB and get anything I want? Because there are always other reasons for my affection. The grapes, even with thrips sucking the life out of them, provide a nice leafy screen and shady arbor in the summer. The loquat towers over my roses like a dinosaur and provides a nice contrast for the delicate blossoms at its feet. The orange trees laugh at our Texas heat and provide stunning green foliage all through the summer - not to mention habitat for black swallowtail butterflies as big as wrens.<br />
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I know what I'm dealing with. I know I'm at the precipice of defeat and humiliation. I know I'm gullible. So I hope, I believe, I try harder, I think up new approaches, I plan better, I persevere. I've got this. I promise.Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-27433916967655167572016-02-21T11:57:00.000-08:002016-02-21T11:57:13.969-08:00When Life Gives You Turnips...<br />
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This weekend was another iron chef moment. <br />
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Here in Austin, my most prolific vegetable season is the winter. I plant in September or October when the heat breaks and we get our first good rain.<br />
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I have raised beds for the vegetables, each measuring about 4x6 feet. Within these boxes I mass plant; meaning I don't plant in rows, I just scatter the seeds over the entire bed. As the plants grow we eat what I thin out until the very last when I harvest the remaining crop. Late February or early March is when we eat in abundance, all trying to stay ahead of the voracious bugs, beetles and worms who emerge from their winter dormancy. <br />
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The winter garden usually has beds of carrots, turnips, kohlrabi, and kale. Other vegetables like garlic, swiss chard, artichokes, onions, broccoli, cauliflower, radishes, lettuce, arugula, or other greens may also make an appearance depending on how much time I have to dedicate to the planting, care, and weeding.<br />
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We've been eating well again this year (along with coworkers, neighbors and friends whom I've shared with,) and I thought I was doing a good job in keeping up with the harvest. Except yesterday I went out to do some weeding and noticed that the turnips had gotten away from me and were now fist-sized beasts. Worse, they were starting to get infested by <a href="http://www.insectidentification.org/insect-description.asp?identification=Harlequin-Bug" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Harlequin Bugs</a>, who LOVE turnips. I needed to squish these guys into oblivion before they moved to the kale, plus harvest the turnips before the greens were completely shredded. One of the things I love about these vegetables is that you eat the whole plant - therefore, no bug was going to dine on MY dinner.<br />
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But what to do with all those turnips? Today's secret ingredient? I love a challenge.<br />
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The biggest turnips were turned into soup. Some of them had started to split and were getting a little woody on the inside, so a nice slow simmer was in order. I found this great recipe on Epicurious that completely fit the bill: <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/turnip-soup-with-turnip-greens-368511" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Turnip Soup with Turnip Greens</a>. I roasted the greens in the oven until they were slightly charred for an extra smokey flavor for the dish. That and a batch of southern corn bread made for several tasty meals. I will probably make a second batch next weekend and then freeze it. I'll use chicken or vegetable stock instead of milk and throw in some chopped rosemary instead of the winter savory I use as a thyme substitute. (It's too hot in the backyard for thyme, so I grow winter savory instead and am liking it much better anyway.)<br />
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While googling for recipes, I also found this link from <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/slideshow/turnip-18-recipes-underrated-root-vegetable#2" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Bon Appetit for 18 more turnip recipes</a>. That shepherds pie is going to be on the menu this week too. I also roasted some of the smaller turnips, along with beets and broccoli rabe. I just spread them out on a baking sheet or dish, drizzle with oil, season with salt then bake at 425 degrees F for 40 minutes. Excellent topping for rice or greens.<br />
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And I made refrigerator pickles. This is something my Mom does all the time when the cucumbers are in season. I've applied the technique to all sorts of vegetables. Sadly, I eat them all by myself since Ed is not a fan of vinegar. Wait, be honest, YEY I get to eat them all by myself and Ed can forage on his own.<br />
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The kohlrabi is starting to mature so I used this occasion to grab a couple of them, plus onions and carrots from the garden. Here is my recipe:<br />
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In a glass or ceramic bowl mix the following:<br />
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1 onion (red if you have it, white if you want extra kick)<br />
1 1/2 to 2 cups vinegar (apple cider with the mother or seasoned rice are my preferences)<br />
1 tablespoon salt (I use pickling salt, but any good quality salt will do)<br />
1 tablespoon pickling spices (optional, I usually have some on hand but you don't need it)<br />
1 tablespoon dill weed or 2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill (I've also substituted with fennel which adds that luscious anice flavor.)<br />
1 thumb-sized piece of ginger, peeled, and shaved with vegetable peeler<br />
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Turnips, kohlrabi, and carrots, peeled (if needed) and sliced into bite-sized pieces, enough to make 2 cups total.<br />
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Mix the onion, vinegar, salt, pickling spice, dill weed, and ginger shavings in a non corrosive bowl. Let sit while you slice the vegetables. I like including carrots because it adds a bit of sweetness and color, plus they are usually ready for harvesting at the same time as the turnips and kohlrabi. If the carrots aren't quite to size yet, I take the opportunity to thin them and use the smaller roots whole.<br />
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Add the vegetables to the vinegar mixture and stir. No need to cover them with the liquid, but they should be mixed in to coat with the pickling solution. Cover and let sit in the refrigerator at least two hours before eating. Vegetables will keep in the refrigerator up to two weeks - although mine never last that long. Since I'm growing the veggies, I'll keep adding to the bowl until the abundant crop harvest is conquered, adding more pickling liquid as needed. <br />
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Hope this gives you some ideas on how to consume your own harvest. And let me know if you want some turnips!!</div>
<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-58500559459567916382016-02-07T08:39:00.000-08:002016-02-07T08:39:39.601-08:00Valentine Flowers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No one will ever accuse my husband of being romantic.<br />
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Valentines Day at our house is the same as any other. We will be married 27 years this May, so I doubt anything will ever change.<br />
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But wait, he says, <i>I DID give you a Valentines gift that one year.</i> Yes, it was a nautical chart of the Puget Sound. He pasted a doily on it and wrote "Happy Valentines Day." Was it a clue that we were going to go on a romantic trip through the San Juan Islands? No, he just liked it. He bought another chart for the mouth of the Columbia River just for good measure. To my husband, nothing could be more romantic than imagining himself sailing those waters. Alone.<br />
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Earlier on in our marriage, I remarked that it would be nice to get flowers once in a while. He was shocked! Shocked! <i>Why, no ones grows more beautiful flowers than you! I couldn't possibly bring home inferior florist flowers!</i> Foiled again.<br />
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I blame myself. When we were dating he bought me a ladle for my kitchen. I already had two ladles, a large one for soup and a smaller one for adding liquid to other dishes (like risotto.) The one he gifted me was a regular size with a white enamel handle. All my other tools are wooden or stainless steel, not a piece of enamel in sight. However, he was having his kitchen remodeled and all the cabinets were going to be white. In his mind that ladle was a full-out declaration of love. <i>Look honey, I'm buying you a gift that matches my kitchen! That way when you move in it will look lovely in the utensil caddy on the counter.</i><br />
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This year he remarked that Valentines Day was on a Sunday and someone he knew asked what he was going to do for me. He COULD see if he could get reservations somewhere, but he has classical guitar rehearsal. I sighed.<br />
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He has other nice traits I remind myself and look out the window onto my garden.<br />
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There, unabashed in the cold prairie wind and undamaged from the hail storm last night, are my roses glowing softly in the first light of morning. Pink, yellow, peach, carmine, white, orange, red, the whole group of them are blooming - every single one. And not just a blossom here or there, but a full-on display of petals that weigh down the canes they are suspended from.<br />
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Excuse me? It's Valentines Day. This is the time that we prune our dormant roses here in Austin so that we get that first flush of bloom in March or early April. But not this year, my roses haven't STOPPED blooming since fall. We've gotten an unusual amount of rain these past several months and all my plants are giddy with the excess. And while we've had a few freezes, the brutal late January early February freeze we normally get has not arrived. <br />
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Even my 'Marilyn's Choice' Albutilon has been blooming like crazy - normally a tender perennial here in Austin. </div>
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So, as a proper gardener, I tell myself that the pruning must be done, and I'll just wait for this round of blooms to finish. <br />
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Except that it's Valentines Day. Maybe my husband was right. How could any florist compete with my roses? And since I need to prune, I think a full vase of flowers will be delivered to my table as a reward. I must be honest to myself, there really isn't a greater love than seeing my hard work pay off in such a beautiful form.<br />
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Who says romance is dead?<br />
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-76459167042336403942016-01-01T21:22:00.000-08:002016-01-02T08:39:59.718-08:00My favorite photos from 2015One of my other gardening friends (Laura Heldreth who blogs at <a href="http://www.gravylessons.com/journal2/2015/12/30/myfavoritephotosfrom2015">Gravy Lessons</a>) posted her favorite photos from 2015. What a great idea! The bonus is that I revisit my photos and the memories associated with them.<br />
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I found that my favorites all came from my June trip on the Toronto Garden Bloggers Fling. I guess that's no surprise, we visited some incredible gardens and all of us were there to photograph them. I learned a lot about plants, photography and writing from my fellow bloggers so this post is a tribute to them. I'm incredibly lucky that I've found this gardening community and that they've accepted me as one of their own. Between them and the Travis County Master Gardeners, my other friends and family are enjoying ACTUAL conversations that don't involve gardening. Well, mostly, anyway.</div>
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You, however, dear visitor, are stuck with my love of all things horticulture with a good dose of gourmand, politics, and love of pets and bugs.</div>
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This Damsel Fly was so patient while I snapped away. I squatted down right in front of her (knees cracking) to get this photo and she still stayed on that leaf and looked right at me. <br />
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When I lived in Oregon, Japanese Maples were almost as common as Rhododendrons. In Austin I can grow neither, so it was such a treat to see these old friends in Toronto. To me this photo captures everything I love about them - the lacy nature of the leaves, the cut edges, the burgundy color, all set against the chartreuse of a larger tree in the background.<br />
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My Grandpa Jess's favorite flower was the peony, and were were lucky enough to visit a garden dedicated to them. Every possible shape and color danced in the breeze that day. The bees were everywhere and I love this bee getting ready to land on the allium that was growing alongside this incredible fuchsia colored peony.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#4 Viburnum</td></tr>
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Alas, another shrub that doesn't grow well in Austin, and another I took for granted when I lived in the Northwest (although I had several in my garden.) I really like how these flowers glow against the dark leaves and blue flowers in the background.</div>
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While visiting the Iris Gardens at one of Toronto's Botanical Gardens, we came upon this snapping turtle laying her eggs. I was lucky enough to get this shot of the egg being dropped in the hole. She was there quite a while and must have laid at least a dozen eggs during our visit.</div>
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We were very fortunate to visit the Niagara Falls area and this private garden. No expense was spared here. This garden gate against the checkerboard pavers was quite stunning. The infinity-edge pool overlooking Lake Erie was nice too. </div>
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Ed and I took advantage of Montreal's proximity to Toronto and started our Canada visit in that beautiful place. We visited the Jean-Talon public market one morning and visited with the nurserymen there. One merchant was selling roses and they were all covered with the morning's rain drops.<br />
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Tulips! Just at the tail end of the season but beautiful none the less. This walkway to the administration building was so majestic and seemed to stretch forever.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#9 Chinese Gardens, Montreal Botanical Garden</td></tr>
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Speaking of entrances, doesn't this just scream CHINESE GARDEN THIS WAY. Love the rock, the tree, and the chartreuse of the spring growth. <br />
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Oh, how I miss my evergreens and that sweet resinous smell. I do so miss that perfume these trees produce and the flush of new growth in spring. I was a bad girl and picked some needles that I crushed under my nose for the entire visit.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This <span style="background-color: white; color: #545454;">Piper auritum is growing under a heck of a shade structure. Love the branches woven into the cattle panel which was held up by a sturdy pipe trellis.</span></span><br />
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At the end of our visit to the Montreal Botanical garden, Ed and I grabbed some lunch at the cafe. We'd just finished eating when this magnolia blossom fell onto our table from the tree hanging over the patio. Honest.<br />
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We were on Ward Island, which is directly cross the bay from Toronto, admiring the view and the garden when this cute cat joined us. Reminded me of my Gwen who could never pass up prowling the yard with me. Or photo bombing. Miss her.</div>
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Hope you've enjoyed these as much as I have. <br />
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Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-88151467605698089652015-06-20T11:04:00.001-07:002015-06-20T11:04:43.671-07:00Portland Garden Schooling in Texas Succulents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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We've had an incredibly wet year so far. After a long period of drought where we begged for rain, the heavens have answered with storm after storm and days of endless gray. It's so wet that it's like I'm living in Portland again.<br />
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Except for the humidity. </div>
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Except for the heat. </div>
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Except for the gargantuan mosquitos.</div>
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Okay, so it's not like Portland. </div>
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But it IS wet and while many of my plants have gone gonzo (clearly, I don't water enough) others have drowned. I've had more than a few succulents rot in planters and in the ground, plus the winecup and black footed daisy aren't that happy, which brings me back to Portland.</div>
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Last year I visited my old home town as part of the annual Garden Bloggers fling and was really struck by what a funny bunch we gardeners are. We're never satisfied with the native plants and attributes of where we live, but instead lust after what we can't or have difficulty in growing. Here in Austin my friends lust after hydrangeas, azaleas, hostas, lilacs - all the things that are ubiquitous in Portland. And the PDX gardeners? They grow succulents. (I just got back from Toronto and their passion? Lantana. They overwinter it in greenhouses.)</div>
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But I digress. Succulents in Portland? With all that rain? I'm not talking about the sedums that hug every rock face, but agaves and prickly pear and other cacti. I think back to my own unsuccessful attempts to grow winecup, evening primrose, and other prairie flowers in my wet clay soil. Growing succulents in Portland just seems a crime against nature.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5Q53dYNaC2sm4krowt8NrsTbT3S8qCDJ3kkhvP41QVSFUrkUkD9RlV6klERcFe_UcK2Igb6sDGRwTMs958lVJk0FfM6EO0GMDAefVWdzIEnWzgvMPrTNpB7vmJ-JZH9DILQBF0-846o/s1600/IMG_0821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5Q53dYNaC2sm4krowt8NrsTbT3S8qCDJ3kkhvP41QVSFUrkUkD9RlV6klERcFe_UcK2Igb6sDGRwTMs958lVJk0FfM6EO0GMDAefVWdzIEnWzgvMPrTNpB7vmJ-JZH9DILQBF0-846o/s320/IMG_0821.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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But the gardeners are doing it and with fantastic results. Not only that, but they taught me a lesson on how to appreciate these great plants and how to use them in the garden whether in the ground or container. Both Portland and Austin are in zone 8, so many of the same plants that grow on the roadside here can survive in Portland - with some modification. </div>
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Drainage is the key and with that comes some creative use of space. </div>
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To grow these in the ground takes some serious soil replacement. Loads of aggregate, sand, and other porous materials are used as life preservers.</div>
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But I also like how they hung those plants on walls and combined them for visual interest. It's a forehead slapping moment for me. Why am I fussing with plants that fry in pots when I should just jam in an agave? I had to go to Portland to learn that.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGrhpoowoFPQJj4yt9bO6cc5uS4QD1biWSvb-HIohzFRHBA3QoBwRcD8H3FlFdD73ZTO1JyjxaxLPphWltwFh6_mLE0EwIhHbYST9ka-TFDTOWSMgcXYbJ7u3XHBjyxvmeSGERNbuBd0/s1600/IMG_0834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGrhpoowoFPQJj4yt9bO6cc5uS4QD1biWSvb-HIohzFRHBA3QoBwRcD8H3FlFdD73ZTO1JyjxaxLPphWltwFh6_mLE0EwIhHbYST9ka-TFDTOWSMgcXYbJ7u3XHBjyxvmeSGERNbuBd0/s320/IMG_0834.JPG" width="240" /></a>And while I love grouping herbs and other flowering plants for a profusion of bloom, my dog seems to think they all need treats buried in them. If I switch to cacti my problem will (hopefully) be solved. (Note, she still dug up one of my succulents that didn't have thorns.)</div>
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And where else should you be growing "hens and chicks" sedums beside an old chicken feeder?<br />
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I love it that I have to travel back home 2.000 miles to be taught how to grow succulents. And today when I look outside at the remnants of Tropical Storm Bill graying up my Saturday, I have to smile at yet another mashup of Portland and Austin.</div>
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Except for my heat rash.</div>
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<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-86781378034837488972015-06-14T10:29:00.000-07:002015-06-14T10:37:11.796-07:00Small Gardens With Big Impact - Toronto Islands and CabbagetownThere were two places we visited in Toronto that really demonstrated how a small space can have just a big of impact as a large estate garden.
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<span id="goog_4457667">Just offshore of Toronto is a small chain of islands that are the largest urban car-free community in North America. We took the ferry and spent the afternoon exploring Ward's and Algonquin islands. There were several yards open to us to tour and meet the gardeners.</span><br />
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The first word that rushes into your brain is "charm". It's like every amazing cottage photo you've ever seen plunked down onto the same real estate. Being there in early June meant we got to see the plants at their lushest - all contributing to the intimacy and magic of the moment.<br />
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What I really appreciated about the island community was the lack of, and in some cases, refusal, of conformity. No two places were alike and in many cases the plants were very different. The gardeners weren't afraid of color and jammed plants into every corner possible.</div>
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I took a side route and came upon this lovely seating area tucked into a leafy bower. I love how it is both private and public. Peaking through the foliage at those adirondack chairs really tempted me to creep in and sit a spell - but I resisted. Barely.</div>
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A similar vibe can be found in Cabbagetown on the east side of downtown Toronto. It is a neighborhood that got it's name from the poor Irish Immigrants who grew cabbages in their front yard. Rankles me that even back in the 1840's people were mocked for growing food in the city. Of course the joke is on those snobs because now it boasts one of the largest continuous areas of Victorian-style houses in North America. </div>
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It is also home to quite a gardening community. We were able to visit gardens that were featured on a recent garden tour. All of the gardens we visited were quite small - but I found I got more ideas from these small gardens than the other large properties we visited. I think part of the reason is that these spaces are LIVED in. They aren't just showcase views but part of the homeowner's lifestyle.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">You really get to appreciate the individual elements of the garden. A colorful rug, a little bonsai on a table. A clay pot laying on it's side with plants spilling out into the flower bed.</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UHpTCGCDmBg/VX2p3aKStGI/AAAAAAAAI7Q/r5c9ztEzuaM/s1600/CabbageTown_IMG_1429_1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UHpTCGCDmBg/VX2p3aKStGI/AAAAAAAAI7Q/r5c9ztEzuaM/s320/CabbageTown_IMG_1429_1024.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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Most of these gardens also had some great art incorporated into them. I love this chicken wire globe spray painted an electric purple. So much more fun than an ordinary gazing ball.<br />
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I also enjoyed this art wall of planters and objects. It made me pause and consider each one.<br />
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The planter built to look like a painting on an easel was awesome too. You can bet this will be showing up in my yard soon.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-znrBTNWgb04/VX2p9urL8vI/AAAAAAAAI8Y/yXfyXAH8re0/s1600/CabbageTown_IMG_1425_1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-znrBTNWgb04/VX2p9urL8vI/AAAAAAAAI8Y/yXfyXAH8re0/s320/CabbageTown_IMG_1425_1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A metal bird wading through grasses made me smile.<br />
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All of these gardens really reminded me that beauty lies in smaller things. A small garden gives you the ability to consider and appreciate each element much more. No sweeping vistas or planting beds to distract you from the examination of a particular plant or object. Not only that, but it is these smaller spaces that are ultimately more inviting. I really wanted to stay in each yard and enjoy it. I even had a hard time remembering to take photos at both locations because I became so relaxed.</div>
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Me? Relaxed in a garden? An inspiration for my own patch of ground.</div>
<br />Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com3Toronto Island Park, Toronto, ON, Canada43.627874903176817 -79.35836791992187543.622128403176816 -79.368452919921879 43.633621403176818 -79.348282919921871tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-52153312124442698042015-06-11T13:38:00.001-07:002015-06-11T13:38:34.095-07:00Gardening with Brush Strokes - the Marion Jarvie Garden in Toronto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Marion Jarvie is a noted gardener, instructor at the Toronto Botanical Garden, and long time member of the Ontario Rock Garden and Hardy Plant Society. Her yard was one that we visited as part of the Garden Blogger Fling 2015.<br />
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As soon as I walked onto Marion's 1/2 acre lot where she has gardened for 40 years, I could see that this was something different. I'm not even sure that the term "garden" - with it's images of happy puttering - even applies here. I felt like I was stepping into a painting.<br />
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And it wasn't just that it was beautiful, which it is, or even the most beautiful garden I've ever been to, which it isn't, it was the precision and thought of the plant materials that made it different. It is like a painting by the old masters, where the artist spent a year on getting a hand depicted correctly. <br />
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Walking through Marion's garden I could actually see the brush strokes. Extraordinary when you consider that her plant collection is very heavy on interesting specimens. Other gardens where the gardener is focused on individual plants lack the flow and color schemes that Marion has been able to pull off.<br />
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So what's her secret? Ruthlessness! When she considers a plant placement she looks at it from all sides to make sure that it fits in and compliments other plantings. If it doesn't it is planted elsewhere. If new acquisitions cause a plant to look odd or not at it's best, it's yanked out and moved.<br />
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Some might consider this type of gardening as too rigid, overly planned, even "precious". At this juncture in my life, I totally relate to what she's doing and appreciate her effort. Since moving to Texas I've worked for two start-ups - and the CEOs of these companies do just what Marion does. They have an end goal and if you can't fit in, complement the rest of the team, make the business better and faster - you're out. After spending the bulk of my career in banking where dead wood rules, I find this approach invigorating. It's fun to run with the big dogs and Marion's garden is definitely ahead of the pack.<br />
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And, oh, the plants! The shear volume of what she's got packed in is really overwhelming. I walked by the same spot three times and saw something new with each passing. I nearly missed seeing one of my favorite wildflowers - Shooting Star (Dodecatheon meadia).<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOpcQCVcl2Y/VXQsI6jK3fI/AAAAAAAAIP4/mHyJ06nhnz4/s1600/thumb_IMG_1387_1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOpcQCVcl2Y/VXQsI6jK3fI/AAAAAAAAIP4/mHyJ06nhnz4/s320/thumb_IMG_1387_1024.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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But not just plants made my day. Her pond was full of pollywogs (amphibian tadpoles). This black damselfly makes a dramatic study in contrasts as it rests on the chartreuse leaf of a Japanese Maple. </div>
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I also really liked her liberal use of Clematis - both the full flower and nodding bonnets of the species varieties.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iCGkR1GxRQ/VXQsVut_GdI/AAAAAAAAIRs/r9AhMVtQN-s/s1600/thumb_IMG_1373_1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iCGkR1GxRQ/VXQsVut_GdI/AAAAAAAAIRs/r9AhMVtQN-s/s320/thumb_IMG_1373_1024.jpg" width="240" /></a>This trio of the tree trunk, allium, and clematis against a chartreuse background gives you a sense of what I mean by a paint stroke. Can't you just feel your brush dabbing into a mound of mixed purple and then applying it with a single stroke? Really marvelous and an inspiration. Going through the garden upon my return I sharpen my eye and look for slackers. </div>
Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459968529775956046.post-18133811534949430822015-06-06T00:11:00.000-07:002015-06-10T13:58:28.505-07:00In Defense of NativesHigh Park in Toronto is about 400 acres and features some important, rare habitat for native plants. <br />
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It was originally purchased by a man named John Howard, who deeded it to the city in 1873 on the condition that it remain a park. The city maintains it and preserves about a third of it in it's original -and rare - black oak savannah. <br />
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They do this through prescribed burns - which is remarkable for a property in the middle of the city. <br />
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The park staff who gave us a tour as part of the Toronto Garden Blogger's Fling showed us several sites that they are working on to beat back the invasive species that threaten to swallow this property and highlighted some amazing, now rare, ecosystems.<br />
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One of them is the blue lupine. They knew that had a few patches of lupines, but it was only when they started the burns that the flower sprang back and is now spreading again. To me this highlights the role of legumes in the natural environment. They are the marines of the plant world. It's their job to establish a base, fix nitrogen from the sky into the soil, and make the area more habitable for other plants like grasses.<br />
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Like the bluebonnets of Texas, specialized insects evolved around this plant. The Karner Blue Butterfly (Lycaeides melissa samuelis) is endangered in both Canada and the United States and is listed as extirpated by the Canadian federal Species at Risk Act (SARA). This means the species no longer exists in the wild in Canada, but can be found elsewhere. With the decline of the lupine, the host plant for the butterfly larvae, so goes the population of the butterfly. There is a movement afoot to try to reintroduce the butterfly into the park now that these lupines are making a small comeback.<br />
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We were also reminded of another butterfly that is struggling for habitat - the Monarch. The oak savannah supports milkweed, the majority of the plants are Asclepias tuberose as seen here. Interesting side note, one of the invasive species that they are trying to control is called "Dog Strangling Vine". According to the <a href="http://highparknature.org/wiki/uploads/Resources/RarePlantsGuidebook_samplead.pdf">Rare Plants of the Endangered High Park Black Oak Savannah Guidebook</a>, it is also a type of milkweed. Unfortunately for the Monarch, while they may lay eggs on it, their larvae don't survive. The proliferation of this weed is cited as another reason that the Monarch is in decline.<br />
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I was very inspired by my visit here and it serves as another reminder that innocuous (to us) activities like gardening can have a devastating impact on the natural environment. It's not just the chemicals we use, but our choice in plants that escape our control. The Toronto parks people pointed us to a stand of Norway Maple that has taken over part of the park. It's used as an ornamental - often planted as a street tree - and spreads easily by seed. I'm reminded of the dreaded Ligustrum that plagues Central Texas in the same way.<br />
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I like to consider myself a good soldier in the war for natives. The best that any of us can do is try to live where we are. Stay educated and diligent, try to be stewards not conquerers. Find ways to use natives and not just fall for a pretty face that will turn into an ugly problem later. And when you see a problem, jump in and take care of it. Whether it be killing ivy, bamboo, bastard cabbage, ligustrum, or even maple trees, it's worth the fight and something each of us can do. Plus, I'm telling you, pulling weeds and clearing brush is very meditative and satisfying. So what's good for the soul can also be good for the natural environment. A win-win!<br />
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Sherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11553051534396275530noreply@blogger.com8